Harry Potter and the Power of the Past
by Lord umbrex
Summary: This is a complete AU Harry Potter is a 21 year old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil.
1. Escape to the Godson

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: I know, I know, this first chapter is choppy, but I began this story a long, long time ago, and just recently started it back up. Over the years that this has been suspended, my writing style has drastically changed, so in the later chapters you'll start liking it more, I would presume. I tried to fix it up, but the way it's structured makes it too difficult. So enjoy, and trust in me that it will get better. Oh, and review!

Chapter 1: Escape to the godson

Hit Wizard Harry Potter walked out of Auror Headquarters one morning, longing for his bed after a long, tiresome night. It was early; most of the Aurors, Hit Wizards, and other Ministry Officials were just making their way into work. As he was walking up to the fireplace to floo back home, a pink haired witch stumbled into him, clumsily falling onto his chest. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I trip... Oh, it's just you, Potter." Nymphadora Tonks said with a smile, her orange eyes meeting Harry's green ones.

Harry rolled his eyes with a smile, saying, "Hey Nymphie, good to see you, too." Tonks blushed slightly at the nickname she only let Harry use, knowing that if anyone else were to call her that name, she'd immediately hex them.

"Going home?" The metamorphmagus asked with a frown, knowing that he had worked the night before.

"What, oh yes, long night, you know?" Harry replied, trying to stiffle yawn. "You are still coming for dinner tonight, right?" Tonks nodded her head, kissed him on the cheek and waved goodbye before she walked away, running a little late for work.

Shaking his head in amusement at the antics of his girlfriend, he flooed to his two bedroom flat in muggle London and made himself a quick breakfast. After he finished eating a few minutes later, he went to lie down in his bed, and immediately fell asleep when his head hit the pillow. He awoke a few hours later to a tapping at his window. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes, and then got up and opened the window. Mumbling something about bloody prophet owls, he paid the owl, threw the paper down onto the floor and went back to sleep.

He awoke a couple of hours later, around five o'clock, and started to prepare dinner. He was almost done when a noise came from the window again, but this time he was surprised when he saw that it wasn't the owl he expected. Instead, he saw a black-billed magpie carrying a roll of parchment that was wrapped tightly around its leg. He took the parchment from the bird, gave it an owl treat and watched as it went on its way. Taking a seat in the chair, the wizard unrolled the parchment and ran his eyes over what it said.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am writing you to offer the Seeker position for the Montrose Magpies. Due to my age, I am stepping down and taking on the Coaching role. You are our first option, please lets us know if you are willing to partake in our road to greatness._

_With respect,_

_Wendell Aldon_

Harry rolled the parchment back up and placed it down on the end table, seemingly not giving it a second thought. Just then the fireplace erupted into green flames and Nymphadora Tonks stumbled out, an action that she couldn't prevent no matter how hard she tried. Harry smiled, greeted the female Auror with a kiss and showed her to the table, pushing the seat closer to the table after she had taken it. The dinner began as a quiet affair until Tonks started talking about quidditch, a common thread of conversation between the two. "Did you read in the prophet that Weasley has been made captain of the Cannons?"

"Really? I didn't read that." Harry replied with an arched eyebrow, knowing that Weasley had been on the team for a while and was probably deserving of the title.

"Yeah, they showed a picture of him at his house receiving the badge. His family was surrounding him, along with owls, rats, and the like, as well." Harry watched as Tonks got up and grabbed the paper, and then tossed it over to her boyfriend, before retaking her seat across from the Hit Wizard. Harry looked down at the picture, and sure enough, there sat Ronald Weasley; with his family, owls, and even a disgusting-looking house rat sitting on his shoulder, the picture made for quite a show. Harry smiled and threw the paper back over to the couch, not really interested in what it had to say.

"Hopefully, he won't drive the team into the ground. You know Aldon stepped down from seeker for the Magpies." Harry said while pouring himself another glass of Fire Whiskey.

"How did you know, I thought you didn't read the Prophet?" Tonks said quirking an eyebrow, curious on how he knew. Her eyes followed Harry as he walked over to the end table and picked up a rolled up piece of parchment, and then walked back and handed it to her to read.

As she was reading her eyes lit up and she squealed. "Harry, are you finally going to accept a position or does every team have to ask you first? I mean how many teams are left that haven't asked you to play either Seeker or Chaser?"

Harry smiled, replying, "Only the Harpies, Canons, Catapults, and the Wanderers are left. Anyway, I'm happy playing for the National team and being a Hit Wizard; it's enough for me, it really is. Plus the World Cup's in three months, I need to get ready for that."

"Do you know if you're playing Chaser or Seeker yet?" Tonks questioned, cleaning up the dishes with a swift flick of her wand. They bubbled and became spotless as they zoomed through the air towards the kitchen, retaking their place in the cabinets above the counters.

"No, not yet, either one is fine with me, though." Harry shrugged indifferently, knowing that he was equally good at playing either position and enjoyed both.

"I hope its Seeker. Last cup you did great at Chaser, but your first cup when you were Seeker, you were brilliant—Viktor and you really put up a show." She said, remembering the midair competition the pair had had. "What broom are you going to ride this time?" Tonks asked, wondering if Harry knew yet.

"Bryson Jewkes is creating one for the English team, he says it's going to be even faster than the Firebolt." Harry excitedly replied. "So how did the Azkaban Auror check go yesterday?" Harry inquired, changing the subject from quidditch to work.

"Dawlish wasn't in today." Tonks replied as they moved over to the couch in front of the fire, and quickly fell asleep leaning on each other.

Tonks woke up the next morning, and quietly walked next door to her flat. She made a light breakfast, and flooed to the Ministry, running a little late for work as she always seemed to do. A few minutes later, she apparated back into Harry's flat with a loud crack, and quickly ran over to Harry and shook him awake. "Harry, Harry, wake up, you need to come to the Ministry." He opened one of his eyes and shot up to his feet once he saw her face: she had a look of fear, one that he had never seen her wear before.

"Nymphie, what's wrong?" Harry asked her, worriedly.

"My cousin Black escaped." Tonks answered with pure horror in her voice, knowing that he would be coming after Harry to finish off the job his master couldn't do. "Shacklebolt wants you to come with him to investigate. Get dressed quickly."

Harry ran into his room, threw on his blood red Hit Wizard robes and rushed to the fireplace. Once he got to the Ministry, he ran straight to the Auror headquarters' with Tonks right on his heels. When he arrived there, he saw Minister Bones, Head of the Aurors Gawain Robards, lead Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Rufus Scrimgeour, and Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Thank's for coming so quickly, Harry, we're leaving right away." Kingsley ordered, leading him out the door. When they arrived at Azkaban after a ferry ride, they were escorted to Sirius Black's cell, where the pair intended to search for anything they could find. "How do you think he did it? It has never been done before." Kingsley asked him on the way to the cell, knowing that they would need to find out how before they could find out where he went.

"What did Dawlish say about him after his check on the prisoners?" Harry wondered out loud, trying to piece together whatever information he could.

"He said that Black was sane, almost eerily so. He asked to see the picture of Ron Weasley, said something about his favorite team being the Cannons." Kingsley replied, finally arriving at the cell after descending down into the depths of Azkaban. When they both entered the dark and dank cell, they recognized claw marks on the walls, like one would find if they owned a cat. After noticing this, Harry ordered everyone to leave so he could be alone, and once he was the only one left in the cell, he transformed into a medium sized white tiger with a pop.

He started to sniff around, and immediately he recognized the scent of an animal. Already knowing that Black was an animagus through his friendship with Remus Lupin, he suspected that was how Sirius stayed sane so long. He escaped the Dementors by changing into a dog, since animals had lesser emotions than humans did. _Brilliant if you ask me,_ Harry mused to himself. After changing back into a human, he cast a few simple tracking charms to draw people away from knowing he was an animagus; after all, he didn't become one of the best trackers for the Ministry by being as dumb as a troll. He left the cell and found Kingsley waiting for him right outside, an expectant look on his face.

"Find anything, or should I say sniff anything?" Shacklebolt whispered with a smirk on his face. Other than Tonks, Remus, and Kingsley, no one else knew of Harry's animagus ability, which came in handy when Harry was working on a case. He, like his father, had become an animagus to help his mentor Remus Lupin during the full moons. After taking two and a half years of research and testing, he accomplished it by himself in the middle of his sixth year, and he's been accompanying Remus once a month ever since. That night was one of the occasions he would be with Remus during the moons, ironically enough.

After leaving Azkaban with what everyone else except Harry thought were no new clues, they arrived back at the Ministry. Being Harry's day off, he said he was going to think about what he learned at home and excused himself from the Ministry. With a pop, he apparated out and into the Leaky Cauldron, and after a quick lunch, he decided to walk to his flat, while he pondered what he had learned.

_He escaped in his dog form, that I know for sure. Why would he escape now, though? He's been in there for twenty years? What about that paper, what does that have to do with anything, if at all, _Harry mused to himself. He was pulled out of his thoughts when a garbage can was knocked over in the alley next to his flat building. The can was knocked over by a thin, shaggy black dog, whose hair was matted down and his ribs were protruding. When Harry saw it, the dog crept back into the shadows, as if it was scared by the sight of a human.

_Well speak of the devil,_ Harry thought with a smile on his face. He walked over to the dog and bent down to pet him. "Are you hungry boy?" The dog just tilted his head in response. "Here, follow me. I'll give you something to eat." The dog shyly followed Harry up into his flat.

When they both were inside, Harry closed the door, took out his wand, and put silence and locking charms on the room. He then turned around and stared straight at the shaggy black dog, meeting its gaze. "You can come out now, Sirius." Harry said, softly. Sirius' eyes widened and he backed away, turning his head in each direction to figure a way out. Harry laughed at the dog's actions, continuing on, "Don't worry, I just want to talk, look my wand's away." After Harry said that, the dog watched as he put his wand in his pocket. Once the wand was away, he looked at Harry again, this time curiously, and with a pop, there stood the most dangerous prisoner of Azkaban: the only man ever to escape, Harry's godfather, the infamous prisoner Sirius Black.

Like in his dog form, he was gaunt and thin, but still incredibly tall—just an inch or two below Harry's own height. His skin was waxy and pale, and stretched so tightly to his face that it made his face look like a bare skull. His hair was black and filthy, long enough to hang down to his elbows, and matted with mud and grime. His eyes were dark and heavy, yet still held a grayish gleam as if he was happy to see Harry, though Harry didn't understand why he would be. His teeth were rotted and yellowed; however, they were surprisingly still all there. Though covered in grime and dirt, one could see the aristocratic good looks that he had—even with them being hollowed out by his years in Azkaban.

Sirius voiced cracked due to disuse as he spoke. "How, how did you know it was me?" He said, looking at Harry with his eyes in their deep and dark sockets. He was wearing ragged gray robes; the same robes that prisoners were issued upon first entering Azkaban.

Harry answered with one word: "Remus." Sirius nodded in understanding, knowing that Remus would know exactly what Sirius looked like as a dog. "So why now, after twenty years, did you escape?" asked Harry, taking a seat on one of the chairs. He pointed at the chair across from him, and Sirius took it, knowing that his godson was in control of the situation.

"I'm innocent." Sirius croaked without looking at Harry. Harry, though startled, did not show it, instead continued to stare at Sirius with an almost hate-filled gaze.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that." spat Harry. Sirius looked up and again said he was innocent, just as he had before. Harry, using his legilimency skills, knew he was telling the truth, or at least a half-truth. "Explain."

Sirius took a second to collect his thoughts, trying to remember every detail of what had happened twenty years ago. "Remus told you I was an animagus, right?" at Harry's nod he continued. "Did he tell you that your father and Pettigrew were also? Did he tell you that Pettigrew was able to turn into a rat?" Harry again nodded. "Did he tell you the story of how I was captured? What was the only thing left of Pettigrew after I supposedly blew Pettigrew to pieces?"

At that, Harry looked up with wide eyes, a bit confused. "A finger." Harry replied, not really comprehending where this was going. _He escaped, and then claims that he's innocent. If that were the case, then that means Pettigrew's alive and well. But no one has seen him since he died. How could he hide for all these years? Unless_…Looking up, Sirius saw something dawn in Harry's eyes; like he had a newfound understanding of the situation.

"The paper." He whispered, then ran into the kitchen and picked up the prophet from yesterday. He rushed back into the room and opened it, then turned right to the quidditch section and looked at the picture of Ron Weasley standing up with his missing-toed rat on his shoulder. "That's Pettigrew?" asked Harry, earning a nod from Sirius.

"You see, he blew up the street himself, and killed all those muggles. He cut his finger off and screamed 'Lily and James, Sirius, how could you?'." Sirius supplied, hoping that Harry would understand.

"How could you, though? He was your best friend! I should have killed you by now, you know that, right?" spat Harry, his anger boiling up inside of him when he realized who it was he was talking to.

Tears welled up in Sirius' eyes, real and salty tears. "Harry, I would never betray your father, I would have rather died than do that. You see, back then I was arrogant, thought my self more clever than everyone else. I told your parents to choose Peter as the secret keeper as I suspected the traitor in the Order to be Remus, not Peter. So I told them to pick Peter, while I went into hiding; Voldemort would be looking for me and not Peter, and as a result, you would be safe. After all, who would have suspected a talent-less rat to be picked as the secret keeper?" His eyes flicked to Harry's, who was staring back at him coldly, apparently not believing him. "You've got to believe me, Harry, I loved your parents. They were my best friends. I would have rather died than betray them. You're my godson, I would never willingly let you down, but I did and I'm sorry. I'm the reason you grew up an orphan."

Harry heard the sincerity in his voice, and the tears falling down the dirtied man's face. Harry himself had tears in his eyes, as memories of his early childhood came flooding back to him. "So you were innocent of everything? You were framed by the rat?" When Sirius nodded, Harry got up and walked over to a cabinet. He opened up the top part, and took out three vials of potion and a wand. After putting the wand in his pocket, he walked back over to the chair, and handed Sirius a clear liquid vial.

"Veritaserum just to make sure." Sirius nodded and willingly downed the vial, inapprehensive of its effects. His eyes took a glazed over look, which signified that it was working. "What's your name?"

"Sirius Black." Sirius answered, his voice wispy.

"Were you the Potter's secret keeper?" Harry prodded, getting right into the main question that needed to be answered.

"No, it was Peter Pettigrew." The reply was croaked out.

Harry bit his lip, wondering if there was anyway that Sirius would be able to bypass the potion. He knew there wasn't, for the man had been stewing in a dank, dark prison for twenty years—his powers ever so slowly evaporating all the while. "Did you kill 13 muggles, and 1 wizard?"

"No, Peter Pettigrew is alive, he killed the 13 muggles. I had nothing to do with it." Harry nodded solemnly, and gave the antidote to Sirius to drink.

When his eyes lost the glaze, Harry handed him another vial. "It's a strengthening potion." Harry told him, and again, the man nodded and downed it. "Go take a shower, and get dressed with some of my clothes; they should fit, though they might be a little big. I'll make you something to eat." Before Harry turned, Sirius engulfed him in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Harry, for everything," He cried, knowing that he didn't deserve what Harry was doing for him. "I should have been there for you. And I thank you, for believing me, and for being willing to hear my side of the story. If I were in your position, I would have already killed me."

"It's all right, Sirius, we'll catch him together. But we'll do it my way this time, not yours, okay?" Sirius gave a small laugh, and walked into the bathroom to do what Harry said. After a half hour, a younger looking, gaunt Sirius Black walked into the kitchen wearing muggle clothes that Harry had left outside of the bathroom door. Harry was sitting at the table, drinking a butter beer, waiting for him to come in. They ate their mince pies in relative silence, broken first by Harry. "Eat up, full moon tonight." He told Sirius with a small grin.

"Remus?" Sirius questioned; Harry nodded and continued eating. "Are you? I mean, ah, anima..." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. It had been so long since he had had a conversation, it was overwhelming.

Harry grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Of course, can't let Prongs be the only one in the family, can I?"

Sirius smiled in remembrance of his best friend's form, it was large and powerful, but yet still majestic and noble. "What form do you take?" He asked after finishing off his pie, his stomach filled to its maximum capacity.

"You'll see, I think you'll like it. Remus does after all." Sirius quietly nodded, while Harry went back to eating, grabbing a second pie from the cooling rack.

"So you're a Hit Wizard?" He asked Harry, interested in what kind of person his godson was.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Harry replied not realizing he was still wearing his blood red robes.

"Your robes." Sirius answered, gesturing to Harry's attire. "I recognized them from when I was being carted away." Black stated somberly, remembering that fateful day.

Seeing the pain in his godfather's eyes, Harry veered the conversation away. "We should get going if you want to explain everything to Remus." Sirius nodded and got up, while Harry walked over to the cabinet and picked up two vials. He pocketed them and walked over to the fireplace; he reached into his other pocket, and took out the wand that he had taken out of the cabinet before. He looked at the wand, and gave it over to Sirius, giving the man a small smile. "It was my father's. Dumbledore gave it to me the night of my graduation from Hogwarts. Use it until we can get you a new one after we clear your name." Then, he took a handful of silver floo powder and said "Lupin's Office." In a swirl of green flames, he was gone.

Sirius stood there looking at the wand in amazement. He was too shocked that Dumbledore had it to decline it, though he doubted he would have either way; it was nice to hold something that James once owned. He shook his head and watched as the flames dissipated, before reaching for the powder himself and leaving in a torrent of green flames.


	2. Finding out about you

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: I know, I know, another choppy chapter, but I had a lot written before I started it back up, so the first couple of chapters will be like this. So enjoy, and trust in me that it will get better. Oh, and review! Thank you for all the kind reviews from last chapter.

S/N: Here's a little background info- Tonks is twenty-six, Harry is twenty-one, Remus and Sirius are around forty-two/three. And at the bottom of the chapter, you'll see one of the many changes in my story. I'll explain it more next chapter in an author's note, because I don't want to spoil it now.

Chapter 2: Finding out about you

He arrived in an empty office, completely devoid of any furniture or windows. Remus and Harry were in the middle of the room talking, whispering amongst themselves. When Sirius arrived Remus had his wand on him in a matter of seconds. "Harry why would you bring this murderer with you!" the enraged lycan screamed.

"Remus, he's innocent, let him talk." at Harry's words the werewolf lowered his wand and looked pointedly at Black. After conveying his story, and showing the picture to Remus, they embraced each other like long lost brothers; both apologizing for thinking the worst of one another.

"Don't worry Sirius, we'll get him." Sirius nodded, and voiced a question that's been bugging him for quite a time.

"Harry, what is your form? I'm dying to know." Harry smiled and with a pop changed into a white Bengal tiger. Sirius marveled him; he was at a loss for words. The tiger was as white as the snow, with black and brown streaks scattered about. His brilliant green eyes, which stayed the same in either form Harry was in, contrasted against his white fur beautifully. His legs and body structure were ripe with muscles, and his paws were long and big, ending in curved claws. Overall, the form showed a majesty that not many animal species could muster. Harry changed back and laughed at the face of his godfather. "Harry, your form is..."

Remus slapped his friend on the back and finished the sentence for him. "Gorgeous?" Sirius grinned and nodded. Remus looked at his watch and then instinctively knew it was time. Harry took one of the vials out of his pocket and tossed it to the werewolf, who downed it, while the animagi turned into their respective animal. When the wolf was out, it immediately attacked the black dog. If Sirius wasn't in Azkaban for twenty years he could have held his own, but Harry had to detain the beast before he ripped the dog apart. It was a long night for all of them, and after Remus went to sleep, they both stayed by the side of his bed, curled up in their forms.

When Remus woke up the next morning, he noticed a large black dog, and a magnificent white tiger sleeping on the floor. They both awoke with a start and transformed back, as if they sensed Remus was up. Harry yawned reached into his pocket, took out a vial, and tossed it to the werewolf. With another yawn, he said goodbye to Remus, invited him over for dinner that night, and flooed home. Sirius bid his friend goodbye and followed his godson.

He stepped out of the fireplace and walked over to where Harry was sitting, nodding off into dreamland. Harry rose to his feet tiredly and beckoned Sirius to follow. When they arrived at a door, he opened it and showed his godfather a medium sized bedroom. "I hope this room's alright. There are some clothes in the drawers, and towels in the closet. I'm going to sleep, though, goodnight." With that Harry walked across the hall to his room, before he closed the door, however, he heard his godfather say thank you. With a nod, he shut himself in his room, and went to sleep.

Sirius awoke a few hours later feeling slightly refreshed. It was the first time in twenty years that he had gotten some sleep without a nightmare. After taking a nice long shower, and putting on some clothes, he walked out into the common room. Looking around, he couldn't find Harry, but saw the cabinet door opened. He peeked inside, and was startled that it was actually a room. Knocking on the outside, he heard a muffled come in. He strolled in on Harry leaning over a cauldron with a book open on his side, chucking an ingredient into the pot. He said nothing, not wanting to disturb his godson. "Hey Sirius, how are you?" Harry asked, still working on the potion.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, I didn't know where you were." Sirius replied while taking a good look around the room. He could tell it wasn't actually a room. _The cabinet must be charmed on the inside or some sort_, he thought to himself. One wall was lined with books about everything, ranging from transfiguration to arithmancy. On the other side rested potion ingredients, cauldrons, and magical artifacts. He was thrown out of his gazing when Harry called his name.

He watched as the man vialed the potion he was making, and allowed the rest to simmer. He then proceeded to walk out, with Sirius right on his heels, and closed the cabinet. Reopening the top part, the wizard placed all of the vials, except for one, in it.

Sirius gasped, impressed by the charm work done on the cabinet. Harry smiled and told him about it. "If I only open the top half of the doors, its just a regular muggle cabinet. I place all my finished potion vials, daggers, wand holsters, and wands in this part. If I open the whole door, it becomes a room in which I keep all my magic books, and the like in there. Keep your eyes open while in this flat, there are hidden rooms all over." He finished with a wink.

Harry then handed a vial of blue potion—which he had just made—to a curious Sirius. Noticing his godfather's curiosity, Harry explained what the potion was. "A nutritional potion of my own design. Drink it now, and then when you go to sleep tonight, your body will not wake up for thirty-six hours. You'll be as good as new when you do wake up, though."

Sirius guzzled the potion down, and then went to the kitchen to help Harry with dinner. While cooking, Sirius learned a lot about his godson. "Before Hogwarts, I lived with my mother's sister. She locked me in a cupboard, made me cook for them, and treated me like a bloody slave. After my first year, Ravenclaw, by the way, I never went back there. I used the gold in my vault, and rented out a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the summer holidays." Just then the fireplace roared with green flames, and out stumbled Remus, carrying a bottle of mead.

After pouring three glasses, Sirius asked for Harry to continue. "Well, in the beginning of the summer between my second and third year, I learned about the English quidditch team's tryouts. I went to tryout, not expecting to actually make it, but I surprised everyone there. I ended up making it as the reserve seeker, I guess, since I was young, they wanted to groom me to one-day take over. So I practiced, and the following summer, I caught a break. In the first match of the World Cup, the seeker, Henry Mason, was hit with a bludger. I had to substitute for him, and actually ended up catching the snitch rather quickly."

Remus entered the conversation at this point. "This, of course, was unheard of. I mean having a fourth year on the team was a miracle, but having that fourth year catching the snitch before a grown wizard was lunacy. I remember watching, Harry proved to be one of the best, only meeting his match in Viktor Krum."

Harry smiled thinking about his friend. "We made it all the way to the semifinals, and met Bulgaria. Viktor Krum, their seeker, was amazing that match. You know what Sirius, follow me."

Sirius followed Remus and Harry into what he thought was a small broom closet. He wasn't far off the truth, either. The closet was enlarged, and had quidditch posters of Harry, broomsticks, uniforms, and books all over the place. He was startled out his stupor by Harry's voice. "This, my dear godfather, is my quidditch room, or broom closet if you will." Harry said with a smile. "Come here, see the match with your own eyes." Sirius was soon led into a pensieve, and watched as a 14-year-old Harry flew around on a broom.

A half hour later, an amazed Sirius stepped out of the pensieve. To say he was shocked at what his godson could do on a broom would be an understatement. The feints Harry did were breathtaking. "After that match, Viktor and I became the best of friends. He ended up coming to Hogwarts a month later to compete in the Tri-wizard Tournament. He came in second, behind another best friend of mine, Cedric Diggory. They, along with Roger, are coming over tonight for a nightcap." After sniffing the air, Harry rushed out of the room mumbling something about burnt food, not noticing Sirius's face.

At Sirius hesitant expression, Remus spoke up. "Don't worry, my friend, those four are like brothers. If Harry trusts you, they'll believe you also." Sirius let out a breath he was holding. "Harry was the best man at Viktor's wedding a little over a year ago. He married Hermione Granger, a muggle born Gryffindor in Harry's year. Viktor in turn was the best man at Roger Davies' wedding. He married a Ravenclaw, also in Harry's year, named Lisa Turpin. They have a year old daughter named Harmony. Those four are so close, that since Harry was neither the godfather of Harmony which is Cedric, nor was he his best-man, Roger named her after him."

Sirius nodded at the information, but was bugged by a thought. "Remus, he was in Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor?"

Remus laughed at the confused expression of his best friend. "Harry's smarter than Lily, and more clever than James; Ravenclaw is the only house for him. Imagine if Lily and James combined: having James' natural talent, with Lily's will to apply herself, and that's what Harry is. In fact, Slytherin would have been my next guess of where he would have been put." At Sirius face he kept going. "Harry has a thirst for knowledge, for power. From third year and up, I had to teach him extra classes just to keep him occupied. During his Owls, Marchbanks fainted at some of the things he did. When she woke up, she told Dumbledore he did things with a wand she thought not possible. Dumbledore believes him to be the brightest student to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts."

Sirius stared at his werewolf friend in disbelieve. "He's that good, huh?"

Remus gave a shrug. "Got all out standings on his Owls and Newts. The summer before his seventh year he traveled across the world learning magic. He's good, but since he's still young he's no Dumbledore; if we were to duel him, we could give him a good fight. The only reason he works as a Hitwizard is because he only works one day a week, and gets paid a bundle. Harry's quite the businessman, you know, owns a few stores in Diagon Alley. The Potter fortune has tripled since he took it over."

"He lived alone at the Leaky Cauldron for the summer? That must have been rough." Sirius sighed, barking out the word rough, like it were 'ruff', as if he were in his animagus form.

"Yeah, but it wasn't too bad; Tom looked after him, and then in his later years I stopped by almost everyday." Remus shrugged, not even paying attention to Sirius' pun. Being friends with someone like Sirius for so long gets you used to things like that. "Dumbledore wasn't too thrilled with him living away from his aunt's house, but Harry knew about the Knight Bus, and threatened to run away if he had to go back to the Dursleys. Well, I guess Dumbledore would rather be on Harry's good side, because he allowed him to stay, but made sure there was always someone there looking out for him. I think that's actually why Harry's such a good wizard. He had all summer to work on his magic, unlike the other kids. And that's all he did; read books, worked on spells, and ate ice cream."

The two friends walked into the kitchen, and found Harry sitting at the table waiting for them. After apologizing, they both sat down, and started to eat. The conversation was light, until Sirius asked about the stores Harry owns.

"Well, I have a third ownership in Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Fred and George let me borrow the Marauder's map to learn the secret passages out of the castle into Hogsmeade, when I had no one to sign my permission slip. When they graduated I gave them a good amount of gold in gratitude. They ended up making me a partner. I also own Quality Quidditch Supplies with Viktor—funny story on how we got it, but that's for another time. Then I own a measly stake in the Owl Emporium with Cedric, Roger, and Viktor; but my share isn't even worth mentioning." Harry then looked around his flat, and to the window in the living room. "You know after I finish off my project, I'm thinking about turning this into an all wizarding loft complex. I mean there aren't any muggles living here as of now, and it overlooks Diagon alley."

Sirius looked confused for a second before asking Harry what his current project is. Remus was the one who answered. "Harry bought a piece of land after he graduated. Building a manor, the Potter Manor, all on his own. Refuses help from anyone. Says he wants a Potter's hand to build an ancestral home." Remus said while throwing Harry a dirty look.

Harry smiled. "You'll see it when Nymphadora and I get married."

"Nymphadora?" A curious Sirius asked.

"My girlfriend of three and a half years. I met her after we won the last world cup." He said happily. His face took on a serene look when that memory came to mind.

_Remus and Harry were walking back to their campsite to get ready for the England's victory party. They, or rather Harry, had beaten Bulgaria 210-170. Harry had been moved to chaser, while Viktor was still seeker. Harry scored nine goals before Bulgaria had even scored one. By the time Viktor caught the snitch, they were too far behind to win._

_He was just rounding a bend when he stumbled over a young woman. Remus started to laugh and continued on his way to the tent. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean too, please forgive me." The woman blustered out. _

_Harry waved it off, apologizing himself for being clumsy. After dusting off the dirt, he looked at the woman. To say she was beautiful would be an understatement. She had spiky blood red hair, and royal blue eyes. Harry noticed her wearing an England jersey with Harry's number on it. When she finally noticed who it was she made fall, she squealed in excitement._

"_You're Harry Potter!" She gushed, her eyes widening in amazement. "You were amazing tonight, big fan of yours, you're really cute." She blushed, and covered her mouth when she realized she said the last part out loud._

_Harry was still staring at her, when she coughed to get his attention. He blushed also, and finally spoke. "Yes, I am Harry Potter, and thank you. I'm just glad we won. You're beautiful, and I can tell you're a fan since it is my jersey you have on." He then smiled, reached into his bag, and took out his real jersey. "It's not clean or anything, but you can wear this one for now on." The girl smiled and threw the jersey on. Harry laughed and introduced himself. "Well, can I have your name miss?" He discretely asked for miss to see if she was married or not._

"_Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks. But if you ever call me Nymphadora I'll hex you into next week." She replied with a smile._

_Harry shuddered at the thought. "Hey listen, there's a party for the team, I was wondering if you would like to…?" _

_Tonks blushed and finished his sentence. "Be your date?" Harry only nodded in response. "My pleasure"_

_After getting cleaned up Remus, Tonks, and Harry were off to the party. When they arrived, Remus went off on his on while Harry and Tonks had a conversation, getting to know each other. "So you're a metamorphmagus, huh?" Harry asked while taking a drink of butter beer._

_Tonks only nodded in response. Harry pulled her into another room, so they could be alone. "Tonks, I was wondering. Can you turn into…" Before he finished the sentence Tonks slapped him, staring at him with hate. "What did you do that for?" Harry asked while rubbing his cheek._

_She had tears in her eyes when she answered. "You're just like all the other guys, wanting to change me into their perfect woman. Well, I wont. I thought you might be different Harry Potter, but I guess I was wrong." She went to leave but was stopped when he grabbed her wrist. _

_Harry wiped away the tears falling from her eyes, and spoke in a soft voice. "I would never make you change into something you're not, Nymphie." He smiled at the nickname he made up for her. "I was simply asking you to turn into your natural form for a second. I wanted to see who you really were; never change you into something you're not. I promise that was all I wanted."_

_She stopped crying, wiped the tears from her eyes, and smiled at the English Chaser. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have thought you would ask me to do that. It's just that guys, well, guys ask me to change into the perfect girl with them. I was hurt, because I know its sudden, but there's something about you. Nymphie, I like that name."_

_Harry nodded. "I know the feeling, that's why I was going to ask you to see your real form. But I understand if you don't want to show me."_

_Before his eyes, the short red haired, blue-eyed woman changed into someone else. She was medium height, had long brown hair, and blue gray eyes. Harry's jaw dropped at her true beauty. He was speechless for a few seconds. Tonks laughed, and changed back. "Well, I better be going, I have a long day tomorrow."_

_Harry frowned but nodded nonetheless. "Oh, okay, maybe would you like to, I don't know, go on a date with me?" Tonks smiled and told him to owl her. She kissed him on the cheek, and apparated away. Harry went back to the party, but for the rest of the night kept his mind Tonks. Never expecting of what was to come. Never expecting to fall head over heels in love with the feisty Metamorphmagus._

He shook out of his thoughts and continued. "In fact, she just happens to be your first cousin, once removed. She's the daughter of Andromeda and Ted Tonks."

Sirius smiled and hit his godson on the back. "Andromeda was always my favorite cousin." _So she did have a kid,_ Sirius thought to himself. His eyes flicked up to Remus, who was looking at him quizzically. "So, Moony, what subject do you teach?"

"What?" Remus questioned, taking a sip of his drink. "Oh," He muttered, gathering his wits. "Defense Against the Dark Arts. Have been for, what, nine years now?" He replied, looking at Harry. "Since Harry was in his second year at Hogwarts."

"He took over after Quirrell tried to steal the Sorcerer's stone. Although, at the time, the students didn't know just what it was he tried to steal. They still don't know, actually. I only know because Dumbledore told me one time during our sessions in my seventh year. " Harry laughed, remembering the stuttering wizard who used to teach defense, even when he was scared of his own shadow.

"Quirrell?" Sirius gasped. "You mean he taught at Hogwarts? I remember when he was being thrown into Azkaban. He was, surprisingly, unnerving; all he did was look blankly around, as if he didn't care he was in there."

"Well, he was a fine wizard, so perhaps he thought he would be able to escape sooner or later." Remus mused out loud, thinking that Quirrell's actions in Azkaban were a far cry from what he had heard about the wizard. "You know those Death Eaters, always thinking they're better than what they really are."

Sirius sighed. "The ones in Azkaban are the best of them, though. At least the main ones, that is."


	3. Friends and not

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: I know, I know, another choppy chapter, but I had a lot written before I started it back up, so the first couple of chapters will be like this. So enjoy, and trust in me that it will get better. **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Okay, so onto Quirrell- I thought long and hard about a way to possibly get the back-story into the story, but I couldn't think of anyway that would allow it to be intergraded smoothly. So, instead, I'm just going to tell you now. As you can see from the last chapter, he didn't die. Harry had nothing to do with the Sorcerer's stone, instead Dumbledore came back from the Ministry, realizing it was a hoax of a letter, and confronted Quirrell; not before Voldemort dispossessed Quirrell, however. Quirrell didn't go down without a fight (plus he wanted to give getaway time for Voldemort), and he started throwing killing curses at Dumbledore and the rest of the teachers who came down to assist, and ended up being caught and thrown into Azkaban for life. Any more questions on the matter, feel free to ask.

Chapter 3: Friends and not

Just then there was a knock on the front door; Harry smirked, and went to answer it. After a few minutes, Remus and Sirius strolled out of the kitchen, and took a seat on one of the couches in the living room. Sirius watched intently as the four men conversed at the door in hushed tones. Their eyes were flicking over to Sirius every so often, which clearly meant they were talking about him. They were all very tall, he noted. For the first time since meeting his godson, Sirius took a good look at Harry.

He was a tall man—a little taller than Sirius himself was—with creamy white skin, and shoulder length jet-black hair that was pulled back into a loose ponytail. He had piercing emerald green eyes that were just like his mother, Lily's. The lightning bolt-shaped scar, which Sirius had seen etched into his forehead before he went after Pettigrew, was a milky white color, blended into his natural skin tone almost unnoticeably. He wore glasses just like his father, which were small and thin. As good looking as James had ever been, Harry had a regal swagger, which called out for everyone to respect him.

Finally, the three men looked over at Sirius and nodded. Sirius let out a breath he was holding, and after grabbing a few glasses and a bottle of mead, they made their way over to the living room. Sirius stood up to introduce himself. "Hello, I guess you know who I am, the infamous Black of Azkaban." He said with a small smile.

The men laughed and shook his hand. The first was a tall, very good-looking, brown haired man, with gray eyes. This man reminded him of Remus; or, rather, the Remus of their group. "I'm Cedric Diggory, nice to meet you Sirius."

The next man was not as good-looking as Cedric, yet held himself as if he were. That wasn't to say he was ugly, he just had a more rugged look to himself. He had dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a hooked long nose. "Victor Krum" he said with thick Bulgarian accent.

The last man was tall, and just as good-looking as Cedric and Harry. He had short black hair, and hazel eyes. "Roger Davies, pleasure's all mine."

After the introductions all the men sat down and had a glass of mead. Remus told stories about how the girls all swooned after Roger, Cedric, and Harry. These three reminded Sirius of Remus, James, and himself so much, that it was uncanny. They were good looking, young, and the best of friends. The conversation soon expanded and moved into Harry's plan to turn the building into an all wizarding complex.

"The building has not a single muggle in it as of right now. It over looks Diagon Alley, its perfect." All the men nodded and agreed. "So any one of you wants in?"

Cedric thought about it and agreed he'd help buy the building. Sirius instantly knew these men were well off. By no means were they scraping money up to live. They all wore the best of robes, and fine jewelry. Thinking back to what Remus told him _'Harry's quite the businessman, you know. Owns a few stores in Diagon Alley. The Potter fortune has tripled since he took it over'_, he understood that all these men ventured into the business world.

There was a pause in conversation, as each lost themselves in their own thoughts. That was, until, Victor was the one to break the silence with a question that had been on everyone's but Sirius' mind. "So Harry, ven are you going to ask her?"

Harry grinned. "I'm going over to her parents house for dinner tomorrow night. I'm going to ask permission from her father, and then I'll ask her on Sunday. Here take a look at this." He took out his wand and gave it a flick. A few seconds passed by then a wooden box came sailing to him. He hissed a password to open the box.

Sirius was shocked to hear him speak parseltongue. "You're a bloody Parselmouth?" He gasped, his eyes wide.

Harry nodded and everyone laughed at his godfather's face. "This is the ring I'm going to give her." He showed it to everyone. It was a beautiful golden ring with an emerald rock set in it. The stone had a shield with a P in the middle of it, symbolizing the Potter name. Everyone gazed at it, clearly impressed with its beauty. "Cost quite a bundle of gold but it was worth it."

Roger drew his attention away from the ring, and asked, "So when do we get to see the manor?"

Harry rolled his eyes, having heard this question a hundred times before. "On my wedding day. It's beautiful though; all of you will like it. Four years of my hard work, only with Zeali for help. It better be beautiful." He scoffed, not wanting to let himself down.

The flames erupted in green again, and out came a tall, bald black man, with a hoop earring. He looked around at everyone's faces, smiling. When he came upon Black's face, however, he scowled, and had his wand out before anyone knew it. "Harry, what in Merlin's name are you doing? This is Black, and you're sitting down with him having a glass of mead like he's an everyday person!"

Harry got up and stepped in front of the man's wand, pushing it away. "You're late, what took you so long?" He questioned, hoping to break the tension. "He's innocent Shack. Put the wand down, and have a glass with us like you were going to."

Shacklebolt sighed, and pocketed his wand. They both sat and Sirius explained his story to the auror, relaying all that had happened. After finding out the details and Harry's nod of approval, he finally let down his guard. "No one can lie to you, Harry, so the infamous Black is Innocent?" At Sirius nod, he smiled somberly. "I'm sorry, losing years of your life to Azkaban is hard to live with. So what have you prats been talking about?"

After telling Kingsley all that had happened, the man asked the million galleon question. "So who's going to be your best man?"

Everyone was at the edge of the seats when Harry answered. "I love you all like brothers, you know that, right?" He said, diplomatically. He knew they wouldn't be too hurt if he didn't pick them, but still, they were his friends and he didn't want to sound too rude.

Remus laughed at that. "Coward! Just come out with it already."

Harry smiled and answered. "Cedric."

"I named my first born after you! And you can't even have me as your best man?" Roger scowled playfully at Harry.

They all laughed. "Get off of it, Roger. Harmony is the name of Lisa's grandmother. That's the reason you named her that." Cedric corrected, not letting Roger talk Harry out it.

In unison, they all threw a bag of galleons at Remus. The werewolf looked at the bags and grinned madly. "Ah, the beauty of gambling."

"You had a bet?" Sirius asked, confusedly. He needed to learn more about these people because, as it was, he was lost in almost everything they said. He would have time, he knew, since Harry was a hitwizard and Shacklebolt an auror, and they were both in charge of the hunt for him, they could throw the ministry off for an indefinite amount of time.

"Sure did," Kingsley answered. "We each took a name of who we thought would be best man. I took Roger, Roger took Victor, Victor took Remus, Remus took Cedric, and Cedric took me. Twenty-five galleons each to whoever was right. Well, as you just saw, Remus was right."

"Do you guys do this often?" Sirius questioned, glancing at them.

"Meet like this you mean?" Remus inquired, raising an eyebrow. Seeing Sirius' nod, he said, "Yeah, around once a week. We see each other more than that, but this is a tradition."

Sirius nodded, and rose from his seat tiredly, as the potion he had taken earlier in the afternoon began to take its effects. He yawned and bid everyone a goodnight; heading towards the room Harry had given him. Harry waited until he was out of earshot before he spoke. "I gave him a potion that will restore his powers, looks, and body to what it should be. I also laced it with a sleeping draught that will knock him out for thirty-six hours. I need him out of my hair for tomorrow."

"What's going on tomorrow?" Remus questioned, noticing the change of demeanor in Harry. For as long as the werewolf knew the wizard, Harry Potter had been a complex individual. He could mask his thoughts and feelings with the best of them, but sometimes it just became too much, and he showed them on his sleeve.

Harry had a gleam of fury in his eyes when he answered. "I'm going after the rat." He spat with contempt. "Kingsley, just make sure the Wizengamot is in by midday, understand?" Harry said, his hitwizard side coming out.

Hitwizards were, for all intents and purposes, the muscle of the Department of Magical Law enforcement, with the Aurors being the brains. During their training period, they intensively focused on defensive spells, attack spells and charms, and tracking; in comparison, training for aurors focused on stealth, concealment and disguise, as well as what hitwizards trained for—just not as indepthly. Aurors were the ones who found out who were the wizards that were breaking the law, and hitwizards tracked them and brought them in. In order for a hitwizard to pass their final training exam, they had to be able to face and fight off two or three aurors at once. An almost impossible task, it was the reason why there were so few hitwizards. In that aspect, hitwizards were more like soldiers, while aurors were policemen.

His auror partner just nodded in understanding. He asked if he had a plan but only got a smirk in reply. When they finished the bottle of mead, they all departed to their respective homes, leaving Harry alone in his living room, thinking about how to go about the capture of Peter Pettigrew.

Upon waking up in the morning, Harry put on royal blue robes, and grabbed his wand. He made himself a quick breakfast, and took a seat at the table, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Hearing a tap on the window, he jogged over to it, allowed the prophet owl in, and paid for the paper. He walked back over to his breakfast, and opened up the front page. In big, black lettering was **"Sirius Black's escape: Still no information".** He gave out a hollow laugh, knowing that they would never find him as long as he was with Harry, especially now that Shacklebolt was feeding the Ministry false information. _Like they'd ever think about looking in the great Harry Potter's house_, he thought to himself with a grin. Cleaning up his dishes, and cracking his neck, he apparated out of his loft, and to the burrow, the Weasley house located in south Scotland.

He had been here only once before to finish off the deal with Fred and George, and that was five years ago, although he did know the area due to Cedric's parents living so close. Knocking on the tattered front door, his plan ran through his mind again: get in, get him, get out; it was simple. A surprised Ginny was the one who answered the door; she smiled at the sight of Harry Potter. "Hello Harry, what do we owe this visit for?" She asked, sweetly. She had had a crush on him for the longest time, but nothing ever came about, as he never noticed her in Hogwarts.

"Hey Ginny, can I talk to Ron for a second?" She nodded and invited him in. He walked into the shabby home, and shivered as he saw Ron sitting at the table with egg hanging out of his mouth.

"Potter, come here to congratulate me on captaincy? Or maybe ask me for a position?" An overly proud Ron Weasley asked, stuffing more eggs into his mouth.

"Congratulations Ron," Harry said, inwardly rolling his eyes. Even after all this time, for Harry had not seen Ron since their time in Hogwarts four years ago, he was exactly the same. "But I was wondering if I could take a look at that rat of yours?" Harry asked, trying to be as truthful as he could. He knew it would sound weird, wanting to see a rat and all, but he felt it was the best option.

Ron furrowed his brow in thought. "Scabbers? Why would you want to see him?"

"Please Ron," Harry sighed. He couldn't tell Ron why, since the rat might hear and run away. "I'll tell you after I take a look at him."

Ron was confused but abided non-the less. He came down the stairs a few moments later with a squirming brown rat in his hands. "He's been getting awfully thin lately, loosing hair, too." Ron said, handing the rat over to Harry. The rat squirmed even more in his hands, biting and scratching, trying to get free.

_The idiot is still here_, Harry laughed in his mind. There was a small part of him that had thought Pettigrew would have ran the second Sirius' escape was announced. Luckily, however, the rat thought he was safe for the time being, for there he was, in Harry's hands. Harry examined him for a few moments then smiled as he saw one of his fingers missing. He took out his wand and muttered stupefy, watching as the red light hit the rat, and it went limp. "Hey, what did you do that for?" Ron sneered, furiously.

Harry scowled at Ron but did not answer, instead focusing his attention on the rat. He pointed his wand at Pettigrew and muttered an unknown spell, and as a result, a flash of blue-white light erupted from Harry's wand. For a moment the rat was frozen in mid-air, dangling above the floor. Ron was too shocked to even move, let along defend his rat, so he just stood there, stupidly. It was like watching a speeded film of a growing tree. Limbs were sprouting, and a head was shooting upwards. Harry heard Ginny and Ron gasp at the sight of a fat, bald, mangled wizard.

Looking over at the two red heads, Harry elaborated. "This thing," He sneered pointing at the wizard. "Is Peter Pettigrew: the man who betrayed my parents to Lord Voldemort. Sirius Black is innocent of all crimes, and all blame rests solely on Pettigrew. Now I'm sorry Ron, but your rat is gone, and heading to Azkaban." He flicked his wand at the wizard and watched as the unconscious man rose in the air. He walked with the levitated man to the door, but paused and gazed back to the Weasleys. "Make sure to give my greetings to your parents." Harry said before exiting the house. "That was easier than I thought it would be," he mumbled to himself. Once he was outside he picked up a stone, turned it into a portkey, and went to the ministry.

Kingsley Shackelbolt arrived in at work that same morning and immediately called an emergency Wizengamot meeting. Being the head Auror, he alone had this privilege. He had all the confidence in the world that Harry would find Pettigrew in time for the meeting. After all, when it came to getting things down, Harry rarely took his time to dilly dally; he was lazy to be blunt, and he would rather get what he needed to do done quickly, so he could relax for the rest of the day.

The trained auror waited in courtroom ten as all members of the Wizengamot started to arrive, each muttering to their friends. The clock was just turning eleven a.m., which was the time in which he called the meeting. The only member's who had not arrived yet were the Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore, and the Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones.

The rest of the attendants though, were not making Kingsley's life easy. The wizards and witches grew weary and impatient. "What is this all about Auror Kingsley? We have better things to do then be babysat by you." A toad like woman spat at Kingsley. Shackelbolt turned his back and rolled his eyes, not wanting to deal with that wretched witch. He knew all the hassle he suffered would be worth it in the end, however. Finally, as if he needed saving, Bones and Dumbledore strolled in, completing the Wizengamot.

After taking their respective seats, Dumbledore called the session into order. "Auror Shackelbolt, you have called the Wizengamot into session. What is the reason for this?"

Just as the Auror was about to answer, the doors of the courtroom busted open, forcing them all to turn their attention to the back of the room. The court was shocked when they saw a smirking Harry Potter walk through the doors, all the while levitating an unconscious fat, balding wizard. There were gasps throughout the Wizengamot by the ones who recognized Peter Pettigrew. As the gaze of the Wizengamot rested on the traitorous wizard, Harry knew Sirius would be free.


	4. Rat him out

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: I know, I know, another choppy chapter, but I had a lot written before I started it back up, so the first couple of chapters will be like this. So enjoy, and trust in me that it will get better. **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Just so you all know, these first chapters are going to be slow, because I have a lot of back-story that I have to tell through dialogue and I have to have this part contrast to his future. It will pick up, though, when I give you the gist of Harry's life. And here's an extra tidbit: Roger is Harry's oldest friend, while Cedric is his best one.

Chapter 4: Rat him out

Upon reaching the front of the room, Harry stopped and began to speak. "This right here is the reason for this meeting. For those of you who do not know, this thing right here," He gestured to the miserable wretch of a wizard that was dangling next to him. "Is Peter Pettigrew; the wizard whom Sirius Black supposedly killed, and was consequently incarcerated for. What you don't know, however, is that Sirius Black is innocent of all charges. The story in which we all thought was the truth was the opposite of what happened. It was not Peter who hunted down Sirius for revenge, but Sirius who hunted down Peter for betraying my parents. It was not Sirius who blew the street up, but Peter himself."

The Wizengamot was silent for a few minutes; each too shocked to say anything. The silence was interrupted by laughter coming from the toad-like woman that had chastised Kingsley just moments before. "That's quite a tale, Hitwizard Potter. You actually think we're going to believe it? Who's to say you're not lying?"

Harry scowled at the fat woman, his eyes wide in disbelief. "The proof is right in front of your face. You dare call me a liar? You call me, this Ministry's best hitwizard, a liar, Umbridge? The one who puts his life on risk when you need someone hunted down? The one who hunted down Black and forced the truth out of him; the one who found Pettigrew and captured him after twenty years of him being presumed dead?"

Umbridge had an embarrassed look on her face, as she stared at Harry with her intense gaze. She shrunk back in her chair when everyone was looking at her, feeling a bit more pathetic than she ever imagined herself feeling. As furious as she was, her embarrassment far outweighed her anger. She would get him back for this, but she knew now was not the time.

Dumbledore looked down at his former pupil, pride showing on every inch of his face. Pride at not only Harry finding out the truth on his own, but also for sticking to his beliefs, even in front of the imposing Wizengamot. "Harry, Dolores' opinion is not that of the Wizengamot's. I have never known you to tell a lie. Strap Pettigrew in the chair, and give him a drop of veritaserum."

After doing what he was told, Harry returned to his spot in front of the court, right next to Kingsley. Auror Dawlish, who was second in command of the Aurors, stood a little behind them; his wand held firmly in his right hand in case of an escape attempt. All the members looked at the disgusting form of the wizard in front of them, their gaze narrowing at him. Most looked like they were about to spew, some had a look of hatred on their faces, while the rest had a look of skepticism, unsure about what they were going to hear.

"Convictional hearing of the seventh of April," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice. A man to the side of the room began to write furiously. "The hearing is for Peter Pettigrew. Perceived dead for the last twenty years, new evidence shows a change in one, Sirius Black's conviction. Interrogator is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; the Court Scribe is Devan Fenwick. Let the court know that Peter Pettigrew has been put under veritaserum, and will remain under until I see fit."

Devan Fenwick continued to write at a furious pace, not missing a single word Dumbledore said. Dumbledore's gaze soon turned towards Pettigrew, as he stared at him for a brief moment, as if to plan what he was going to say. Nodding towards Harry, the hitwizard pointed his wand at the man, rennervating him awake. Not wasting any time, Dumbledore asked the first question; a simple one that would show if he was truly under the affects of the potion. "What is your name?"

Pettigrew answered with a throaty voice. "Peter Pettigrew."

Gasps were heard again throughout the courtroom, seemingly coming from all those that believed the Pettigrew before them to be a hoax. Dumbledore put his hands up to silence the rest. "Are you the same Peter Pettigrew who supposedly was murdered by Sirius Black?"

"Yes," Peter croaked out.

Dumbledore made a quick note on a piece of parchment that was in front of him, passing it over to Minister Bones who sat next to him. She eyed it for a second, and gave a curt nod to him. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Rufus Scrimgeour peeked his head over her shoulder, reading the note himself, as well. He grunted his okay, and Dumbledore continued. "Can you please tell us what happened that led up to that incident? Meaning the incident that led us all to believe that you, Peter Pettigrew, were dead."

"I was made the secret keeper of the Potter's instead of Sirius Black." Peter answered, monotonously. "Sirius thought I was too weak, so the Dark Lord would not want my services, even when my blood is pure. So he talked the Potters into having me as their keeper, and while the Dark Lord hunted him down, I would hide away, therefore keeping the Potters safe. There was a flaw in his plan, though; I was already under the Dark Lord's service, and had been for quite some time. Once I was made secret keeper, I immediately told my master where the Potters were, and I took him to them and he attacked. After the Dark Lord's fall, Sirius tracked me down for revenge and cornered me in a muggle section of London. I knew I stood no chance against him, so I concocted a plan. Sirius underestimated my mind, and fell right into the trap. I screamed out 'Lily and James, Sirius how could you?' for everyone to hear. Then, with my wand behind my back, I blew up the street, cut off my finger, and ran away in my animagus form."

Dumbledore was amazed at the brilliance, yet ease of his plan. For all of his supposed shortcomings as a wizard, Pettigrew was a conniving worm that had bursts of brilliance that most couldn't compare with. "What is your animagus form?" He asked, wondering how the wizard had hid in it all these years.

"A rat." Peter replied. "It was easy for me to live in the sewers until I could find myself a new home. I knew I could never show my face again, but living as a rat is better than dieing as a man."

"Sirius Black was not the right hand man of Voldemort, then?" Dumbledore questioned, getting into the meat of the trial, and reason why Harry had brought Pettigrew here in the first place. After all, like Harry had said minutes before, he found out the truth from Sirius himself, so that meant he was hiding his godfather until it was safe to come out. He sighed as he noticed people were still shuddering at the wizard's name, even after twenty years of peace.

"No, Sirius Black was never a servant of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Pettigrew responded, not even realizing that he just wrote his ticket to Azkaban, as well as granting Sirius his freedom.

"Sirius Black is innocent of all crimes he was committed for? He did not betray the Potters? He did not kill all those muggles?" Dumbledore inquired, hoping to make Pettigrew's statements irrefutable.

"That is right." Pettigrew agreed.

"It was you, Peter Pettigrew, who did all those atrocious acts?" Dumbledore prodded, getting all the information he could out of the man

Pettigrew's eyes continued to show its glaze. "Yes."

Dumbledore nodded, and just for good measure, asked, "Are you still a loyal servant to Voldemort?" This was beyond a simple question for the court, instead it was a question about if Pettigrew thought Voldemort was still alive or not. He, after all, was supposedly there when Voldemort attacked the Potters.

"When the Dark Lord rises again, I will be at his side once more." Pettigrew stated, a flicker of emotion entering his voice for the first time. The effects of the potion weren't wearing off; instead, it was the man's devotion to the Dark Lord that allowed the emotion to enter his voice.

Dumbledore looked down both sides of the court. Each person he saw had a look of disbelief and disgust plastered on their faces. The horror of sending an innocent man into Azkaban for twenty years was a like a plague to them. Barty Crouch was clearly taking it the worst, though. As the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—a position that was succeeded by Madam Bones, and currently held by Rufus Scrimgeour—he was the one who sent Sirius to prison without a trial, so the guilt was mostly on him. As Pettigrew spoke, he got paler and paler, and each time Pettigrew said a word, his stomach twisted and turned.

Harry looked at the man who killed his parents with controlled rage. He hated this man with every breath he took. He wished he could kill him right now, but he knew better than that. The hitwizard felt eternity in Azkaban was a fitting punishment indeed. Dumbledore's voice brought everyone out of his or her thoughts. "Harry, please give Pettigrew the antidote."

Harry nodded, and put a drop of a blue liquid in the rat's mouth. Everyone watched as Peter's eyes lost the glazed over look, and his senses returned to him. Fear flashed across Pettigrew's face, as his eyes roamed about the room. He squirmed, and moved around, desperately trying to get out of his restraints. Harry and Kingsley quickly drew their wands, pointing them at him threateningly. Stopping instantly out of fear of the two, Peter's beady eyes pivoted up to Dumbledore.

"Peter Pettigrew," Dumbledore bellowed. "You have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law. We have heard the evidence against you, and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgment?"

Pettigrew squirmed again trying to get lose. "I'm innocent, whatever someone told you was a lie. A lie, I say." He screamed out, his eyes wide with fear.

"If you were so innocent, then why did you hide away all these years? Why not show yourself?" Dumbledore questioned, his usually twinkling eyes staring into Pettigrew's.

"Because I was scared." Pettigrew cried out, hoping to whip up a sob story for them to believe. "Scared that Sirius Black would come after me." Pettigrew yelled, spit flying everywhere.

"You were scared Black would escape prison, and come after you?" Dumbledore inquired. "You were afraid he would escape, a feat that no one in the world has done before?"

"Yes, you don't know the power Black learned from his master." Everyone could tell Pettigrew was reaching for straws now.

Dumbledore's face took a look of hatred. For the first time in his life, Harry saw pure fury on his old mentor's face. "I have heard enough of your lies. I now ask the jury to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban. A punishment that Sirius Black wrongly received over twenty years ago."

Looking up at the court with fear clearly written on his face, Pettigrew counted up the hands. The only person in the room who hadn't raised their hand was a fat witch that looked like a toad. "Very well. Peter Pettigrew, you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. Dawlish, Kingsley, take him away. I would also like to announce Sirius Black's innocent. I presume he will be greatly compensated by the Ministry. With that, this session of the Wizengamot is closed."

Murmuring could be heard, but Harry was not paying attention. He was watching his partner take the murderer who gave his parents away to hell on earth. He wanted Pettigrew to suffer, to be tortured. The screams of Pettigrew were on deaf ears to Harry, he would hear none of it. He was thrown out of his thoughts when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Upon turning, the young wizard smiled when he saw it was Dumbledore. "Hello Albus, quite an exciting day, isn't it?"

The great wizard peered up at his protégé. The strength of the young man in front of him astonished the older wizard to no end. He single handedly hunted down a convict, forced the truth out of him, then truly found the person who was responsible for his parent's death. All in one day was the most amazing part about it. "Yes, you did an amazing thing today, Harry. You set someone innocent free, and also found the truth behind your parent's death. They, as I am, would be proud of you."

Harry nodded with a smile, and turned to leave. Before he was out of hearing distance, he spoke again. "Albus, care to join us at my loft tomorrow night? Say around eight?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I'll be there."

Harry arrived back at his place a couple of hours before he had to be at Tonks' house. Deciding to take a nap, he headed towards his bedroom. As he passed by Sirius' room, his mind couldn't help but wander. Thinking about everything that happened in such a short span would give anyone a headache. His whole belief on what had occurred with his parents was turned upside down. His godfather, the one whom he thought was responsible, was actually innocent. A man who could go through Azkaban knowing he was innocent was a man Harry always wanted as a godfather. Although he was saddened by the lose of so much time, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of the new possibilities that could happen. Shaking his head, Harry continued on his path towards his bed.

With a pop, a short, young looking house elf appeared in Harry's room a few hours later. The elf had a pencil like nose, with big tennis ball shaped brown eyes. He was wearing a forest green sweatshirt that was three sizes to big, and hung down to the floor as a result. His feet were covered with matching black socks that, surprisingly, fit him well. Running to the bed, the elf jumped up onto it, and started to shake Harry awake. "Wake up Master Harry, wake up now or you'll be late." The elf said in a squeaky voice.

Rolling over, the young wizard opened his eyes to the broad grin of his house elf. "Zeali, what are you doing here?" He questioned, using his hand to push his hair out of his face.

The house elf smiled up at his master. "You're going to be late, sir. Zeali doesn't want master to be late on such an important day, sir."

Harry smiled down at his loyal friend. Traveling the world during the summer after his sixth year is when he met him. He was still young, not old enough to even handle most tasks himself, but his mother wanted him to find a master. Harry, feeling bad for the poor guy, quickly offered him a job. Zeali himself turned down pay, but requested the right to wear clothes. This to Harry was unheard of in an elf, having known only one elf before—who happened to be Zeali's father—who had also wanted to wear clothes, but he complied nonetheless and fashioned an outfit for him. It was simple, yet seemed to make the elf happy. "What time is it?" Harry groggily asked.

"Almost 6 o'clock, master Harry." Zeali replied, standing at the end of the bed and looking up at Harry.

Jumping out of bed, the wizard rushed into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. Quickly taking a shower, and cleaning himself up, Harry spent most of his time looking for something good to wear. Deciding on a pair of faded blue jeans with a buttoned down black shirt, and elegant green top robe—light for summer use—that matched his eyes, Harry checked on his godfather's sleeping form as he passed by his room. Looking at him put a smile on the young hit wizard's face, proud that he could call him his godfather. After all, Sirius Black was the only one to ever escape Azkaban; a feat few in the world could mirror—Harry had no doubt he probably could, as could Dumbledore, but he didn't know who else would be able to.

Walking into the kitchen, he opened the charmed draw that lead to his wine cellar. Over the years the wizard took a liking to collecting wine. Of course one of the first things he did upon buying his flat was to put a secret cellar within the kitchen. All it took were a few charms to expand the supposed silverware drawer to become a good-sized cellar, which could hold a few rows of wine holders. Grabbing a random bottle, he walked back into the kitchen and closed the drawer. "Good luck, master Harry." Zeali squeaked out from behind.

Harry smiled down at his helper and friend, rubbing the elf's back. "Thank you Zeali, you have fun tonight yourself. Who's the lucky elf?" the man teased.

Zeali flushed, his skin turning a peach color. "Zeali is going to see his mother and father tonight sir. Me is to young to start dating." Zeali was only just out of his adolescent years in elf standards, and had just came into his complete magical power.

A laugh escaped Harry's mouth, as he rolled his eyes at Zeali's response. "I know Zeali, I know. I'm just teasing you. Goodbye, my friend." Harry waved to his elf, and with a swirl of his cloak, the wizard apparated out of his loft with a soft, almost unnoticeable pop.


	5. Innocence is bliss

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: I know, I know, another choppy chapter, but I had a lot written before I started it back up, so the first couple of chapters will be like this. So enjoy, and trust in me that it will get better. **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again! Sorry I haven't updated as quickly as I usually do, it's just…I'm going through a tough time with my best friend right now. Her and I are going through a "more or not" phase, and as a guy (yes I am a guy if any of you were wondering) I'm having a hard time trying to figure it out, but enjoy!

S/N: Pettigrew is a little better of a wizard in my story than he shows in the real Potter books. In my opinion, he's underrated and obviously had a scheming aspect to him that went unnoticed by other wizards since he was able to trick Sirius.

S/N 2: I've also taken a few liberties with the Black family tree, shuffling around two members of the family to suit my needs, but nothing too drastic. You'll see it in a few chapters from now, but here's the gist of it: if you look at it, I switched Dorea Black (who married Charlus Potter) with Cedrella Black (who married Septimus Weasley), and made Dorea Black the youngest of the three daughters of Arcturus and Lysandra Black.

Chapter 5: Innocence is bliss

Appearing in front of a small white house, Harry's scanned the property with a small smile. It was by no means a mansion. It wasn't decked out in extravagant décor, nor expensive furnishings. It was a simple house; a quaint home that was perfectly situated in a muggle community. Whether it was the feel of magic around it, or the people inside, Harry always had a feeling of being at home while there.

Walking up the black door that had the number 35 on it, Harry pressed the bell, and waited to be let in. Although the Tonks' always told him to walk in over the years, he never felt comfortable too. _Not until Nymphie is a Potter will I feel comfortable_, he thought. As the door opened, the wizard finally felt the nerves that swelled inside of him. Tonks gave her boyfriend a huge smile. "Wotcher, stranger!"

Moving in to kiss her, Harry engulfed her in a passion filled moment. Not seeing her for two days was much too long in his opinion. A problem that needed rectification; luckily the answer was right in Harry's pocket. At the last minute, the hitwizard decided to grab the ring. He wasn't proposing tonight, but he felt he needed to show it to Tonks' father, to prove to him that he could take care of his baby girl. To prove that whatever Nymphie wanted she could have. That he would, and could, give her the world if she asked him to.

Breaking apart, Harry gave her a smile. "Hey to you, too."

Grabbing his hand, Tonks led her boyfriend into the small kitchen. Her mother and father were both standing around with a glass of wine in their hands, talking to each other casually. Upon seeing Harry, the couple smiled at the much younger wizard. "Hey, sweetie. How've you been?" Andromeda moved to kiss him on the cheek.

"Been fine. How about you, Andromeda?" Harry replied handing her the bottle of wine. Seeing Ted, Harry shifted to give him a handshake.

For some reason Ted had a way of scaring Harry almost to death. Not only was he much older, and physically smaller and weaker, he wasn't even half the wizard Harry was. Harry knew that, but even so, he was scared of the guy. Tonight, his fear was amplified even ten fold. "Good to see you, son. You're looking good." Ted said grabbing Harry's outstretched hand.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's only been two weeks, Ted."

The older wizard smiled. "Even so, it's good to see you, and you still look good."

The group made their way over to the waiting dinner table. Steak, potatoes, corn, rolls, and wine were already spread out. Andromeda's meals, like they usually tasted, always looked great. She had a real knack for making a simple dish look elegant. "It looks great." Harry said licking his lips.

Andromeda laughed, putting the bottle of wine down on the table. "Yup. I made your favorite for dessert as well."

A tap at the window forced Nymphadora away from the table. Opening it up, she allowed the owl to take a sip of water, while she paid him and grabbed the paper. Reading the big headline on the front page, the young metamorphmagus gave out a gasp. "What is it?" Ted asked his daughter, worried.

Looking up, she stared right at Harry. "He's…he's innocent?" All Harry could do is nod. As the events that happened over the past few days hit him, he lost the ability to speak.

Andromeda had a confused look on her face. "Innocent? Who's innocent?"

"Sirius Black." Nymphadora whispered handing the paper to her mother. Andromeda looked down at the night edition of the Daily Prophet. A huge picture of Peter Pettigrew being dragged away by Kingsley was on the front page, with a short article underneath it.

_**Sirius Black Innocent! **_

_Twenty years. Sirius Black spent twenty years in Azkaban Prison of Witches and Wizards before being the first inmate to ever escape when he did just a few days ago. Being the most dangerous prisoner, Black was in the highest security cell possible; he was watched over by two Dementors every day and night. Having been accused of murdering thirteen muggles, as well as the wizard Peter Pettigrew, Black was a shoe in for life imprisonment. Not even given a trial, the second Black was caught he was on the ferry over to the prison. But what would happen if Black was truly innocent? That the reason he was imprisoned was due to someone framing him? Well, that's exactly what happened. This reporter, as well the entire wizarding world, has been deceived. As I write this, Peter Pettigrew, an Order of Merlin wizard, is being carried to Azkaban. The supposed dead wizard is alive and well._

_That's right. You read it correctly. Sirius Black is innocent, and Peter Pettigrew who we all thought died a hero, was actually a villain—a Death Eater of You-Know-Who. Four days ago, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban prison. Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived as well as all around Quidditch hero, was assigned to track down Black, and bring him back to Azkaban. Being the best at what he does, Potter did track down his Godfather, then forced the truth out of Black. _

_The story we were all told was the opposite of what happened. It was not Pettigrew who hunted down Black for being a Death Eater, but Black who cornered Pettigrew. It was not Black who destroyed the street and killed all those muggles, but Pettigrew who did. Pettigrew then cut off his finger, and escaped in his Animagus form. All the while framing Black of the crime and forcing him to take the punishment._

_Upon hearing this, Potter hunted down Pettigrew (remarkably fast mind you) and took him into custody. The entire Wizengamot was called in for the case. Pettigrew was found guilty of all Black's charges, and Black found innocent and will be given recessions. _

_Continued on page 2._

Andromeda slowly lifted her head to meet Harry's eyes. Horror was etched all over her face, as her mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly unable to form a sentence. "Where is he?"

"Back at my loft." Harry answered; cocking an eyebrow as Nymphadora took a chug of wine straight out of the bottle, and Andromeda downed what was left in her glass. "But that's why I didn't tell you: I'm having a party for him tomorrow night. I gave him a potion that I brewed up that will restore him to what he would look like if he hadn't spent that time in Azkaban. I know this is difficult, but it isn't any of our faults. We didn't know."

After reading the story, Ted clued himself in on what was going on. Although there was no way for him to console his wife and daughter, he just hoped he could get their mind off of the matter. "I know I have no part in this, for Sirius is neither my godfather, nor my cousin. But I love you all, and hate to see you like this. Tomorrow we'll go to the party, and have a good time reuniting with him. Tonight however, let's have a peaceful dinner." At Ted's words, everyone kicked into action. Passing the dishes to one another, the conversation progressed into idle chitchat. The food, like Harry thought it would be, was delicious.

The dinner winded down, just as the wine was finishing off. Nymphadora and Harry both got up to get the dessert and coffee. As they entered the kitchen, the witch grabbed her boyfriend and began a passionate kiss. When the need to breath set in, the metamorphmagus, who just happened to be in her natural state, let her boyfriend go. "What was that for?" Harry asked in a daze.

Tonks smirked, running a finger over his chest. "Can't a girl kiss her boyfriend?"

"Of course she can." Harry grinned, looking at her intensely.

"Good, because there's more to that later tonight." Tonks said grabbing the pie, and walking back out to the dinning room. Shaking his head, Harry finished making the coffee and tea, and followed the witch back to the table.

As Ted was eating the last piece of pie, Harry's stomach took a turn for the worst. His nerves came flooding back. Like a tidal wave, the weight of what he was about to do crashed down upon him. This was the moment he was dreaming about; the moment that his hard work building the dream house for the woman he loved would pay off. He knew it was here, since once the dishes were cleared and cleaned, there would be no more excuses. No more reasons for him to put it off. Taking a deep breath, the man-who-lived walked over to Ted with a smile. "Ted, let's say you come outside and light a cigar up with me?" Harry spoke, putting his arm around the guy.

The men made their way outside where the moon was high in the sky. It's brilliant glow shown down on the earth, lighting it up in an eerie haze. Taking a seat under the porch light, Ted watched Harry patiently. All night the boy had been acting nervous, distant almost. And now, that nervousness was back tenfold.

"Mr. Tonks, Ted," Harry began whipping his sweaty hands on his pants. "There's something I got to ask you." The older wizard cocked an eyebrow, and motioned for Harry to keep going. Taking a deep breath, Harry went for it. "Well, I was wondering if you'd allow me to marry Nymphadora? You know how much I love her. I'll take care of her, and make sure she has not only everything she needs, but everything she wants as well."

Ted gave out a howling laugh. When his laughter continued after a few seconds, Harry closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. Ted didn't want him to marry his daughter? Why? He was perfect for her. He would keep her happy, safe, protected. "That's what you've been nervous about this whole night?" Ted's voice rang out. Looking up, Harry nodded. "Well, do you honestly expect me to say no to you, Harry? Not only do I love you like a son already, but you also make my little girl happy. You're an honorable man Harry Potter. The best wizard I've ever met. I'd be happy to have you as my son. So yes, you can marry my daughter."

A broad smile came upon Harry's face. This was one of the happiest moments of his life. That in and of itself was saying how special Tonks was too him. Although he had a very traumatic childhood, he had lived a life of luxury and thrill the last ten years. With lavish parties, and thrilling adventures, a good time was something that came almost everyday to Harry. A smile was always on his face, and rarely ever came off of it. He had the money to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and however he wanted, but today was different. This happiness was different than being on a broom, or touring the world; some would say that this happiness was less shallow. "Thank you, sir. I promise to take care of her."

Ted nodded. "I know you will, Harry. When are you going to propose?"

Taking out the ring, Harry opened the box with a hiss and showed it to his future father in law. "This Sunday."

Mr. Tonks whistled at the sight of the ring. "That must have cost a bundle."

Harry smiled but sighed. "When have I ever been stingy when it came to Nymphie?"

"Be careful, or it's going to be the death of you." Ted laughed.

Harry couldn't help but agree. "You're probably right."

The rest of the night passed with out any commotion. That's why Harry felt at home with the Tonks'. He could have a good time with out anything exciting, nor adventurous happening. That, to him, was refreshing. A change from his everyday life that was more than welcome.

"So you're going to come tomorrow right?" Harry asked, walking outside to apparate. It wasn't polite to apparate inside a wizarding house, just like it wasn't polite to walk into someone's house uninvited or leave without saying bye.

Andromeda and Ted both nodded. "We'll be there. Eight o'clock?"

"Yup. Till tomorrow." Harry waved, apparating out.

"Bye mommy, daddy." Tonks said following her boyfriend. "Where is he?" Tonks whispered appearing next to Harry in Harry's loft. Walking to the first guest room, Harry gently opened the door up. Sirius lay curled up under the covers, his long, black hair cascaded down, covering his face in a shadow. "That's him? He looks too good to have spent twenty years in Azkaban."

Harry smiled, closing the door with a soft click. "I do know how to whip up a superb potion, you know."

Tonks hit him on the arm playfully. "I know that, but that looks too good of a potion."

The wizard shrugged indifferently. "I concocted it on a whim. I don't even remember what I put in it." Admittedly, he was no Severus Snape when it came to potion making, but even with potions being one of his worst subjects—yet he was still better than most wizard and witches—, he was pretty handy with a cauldron.

Rolling her eyes, Tonks took his hand in her's. "Harry James Potter, what am I going to do with you?" She questioned with an arched eyebrow, leading him to his bedroom.

A sly smile crept onto Harry's face. "I can think of a few things."

"Hmm, you'll have to tell them to me." Tonks whispered, closing the door.

Tonks awoke to the smell of bacon the next morning. Apparating over to her apartment, the witch took a quick shower, and threw on a change of clothes. She appeared back in Harry's room a few minutes later with her hair a bright yellow. Walking out, she smiled when she saw Remus standing over the stove, using his wand to cook up some grub. "Wotcher, Remus! I didn't know you were going to be here." She said from behind the were-wolf.

Turning, Remus smiled. "Well, Harry asked me to come and take Sirius out shopping when he wakes up. He wants Sirius' party to be a surprise."

"Where is he, anyway?" Tonks asked, taking a seat at the table.

"Inside Sirius' room, waiting for him to wake up. It should be any second now, actually." Remus answered, levitating some muffins and other pastries onto the table.

Nodding, Tonks moved onto other topics of conversation. "How many people are coming tonight?"

Remus shrugged, pouring the witch a cup of tea. "The guys and I sent out the invitations last night. Most of the people we invited were our old school friends, and people Sirius used to know through the Order. All in all, about forty should be coming. Harry told your parents, right?"

"Yeah, he did." Tonks replied, breathing in the hot steam of the tea as she held it up to her nostrils. Tea in the morning hit the spot in the metamorphmagus' eyes.

Harry sat with a cup of tea in his hands, just staring out the window. He could hear Sirius' breathing behind him becoming more rapid. Looking down at his watch, he smiled when he saw the wizard should be waking up anytime now. A yawn from his godfather drew his attention from the window. Looking across the room, his green eyes met with the gray ones of Sirius. "Hello Sirius." Harry spoke, grabbing the paper from the desk, and striding to the bed.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. "Hello, Harry. Ah, what's going on?"

Harry smiled; realizing waking up and seeing your godson staring at you must be weird. "Well, it's done."

"What is?" Sirius asked confused. Throwing the daily prophet over to the black haired wizard, Harry watched the man's face. A gulp was the first reaction Sirius had. As the ex-prisoner looked up, Harry smiled and nodded. Tears swelled in the dog animagus' eyes in response. Reading the rest of article, Sirius bursted out in true happiness. "Thank you, thank you, Harry." Sirius whipped the tears from his eyes.

"You're welcome, Sirius." Harry grinned sadly, happy that his godfather would be able to move on with his life. "The rat deserved everything he got. I know I can't give you those twenty years back, for all the money in my vault wouldn't accomplish that, but hopefully we can live the rest of our lives to the fullest."

Sirius grabbed his godson in a hug. "I don't know how to repay you, Harry."

"Just don't do anything rash anymore, okay?" Harry muttered breaking the embrace.

Sirius laughed. "I'll try not to."

"Good. Well, get cleaned up, Remus is here, and I want you to meet someone. Breakfast will be ready when you come out." Harry said, walking out of the room. When Harry reached the kitchen he could smell the bacon and eggs. His stomach growled in response to the aroma. Scanning the area, Harry grabbed a muffin, and walked over to where the pair was sitting. "When did you wake up?" Harry asked his girlfriend, who was sporting spiky green hair now. Grabbing the butter for his muffin, the wizard kissed her on the cheek and sat down.

"About ten minutes ago." She answered, taking another sip of her tea.

Hearing the shower turn on, Remus smiled, his amber eyes flicking over to Harry. "How did he take the news?"

"Other than the crying, and the excessive thank you's, you mean?" Harry smirked. "Not bad."

"I can't wait to meet him. Although I never thought I'd be saying this, but he must be quite a guy." Tonks gushed, happy to have another member of her family be as good and honorable as her mother. The Tonks' weren't a big family, and the Black's were as evil as their name implied, so it was basically just her mother, her father, and Harry that Nymphadora actually considered family; but now, with Sirius around, she could maybe add one more name to that list.

Remus cocked an eyebrow at that. "You know when he found out your mother was pregnant he tried to contact her."

"What do you mean?" Tonks questioned, startled. Did her mother keep the knowledge to herself all this time?

"Back in our fifth year when you were born, he tried to owl her." Remus answered, squeezing some lemon into his tea. "But they never got to her. We never found out why either."

"So he knew about me, then?" Tonks asked.

Remus shook his head. "Only knew of you at one point. But when your mother never replied, he thought his information was false."

Hearing the door open, Tonks got ready to see her cousin. "How should I wear my hair?" Harry shrugged. "Like this?" Tonks asked again.

Looking at it, Harry was surprised in the normalcy she wanted. It was blonde, which cascaded down to a little past her shoulders. "It doesn't matter. You look good in whatever."

Tonks gave him a face, but kissed him none-the less. "That was a lame come on."

Harry smirked. "Well, it's my specialty."

"Your father would be greatly disappointed in your ability to court the fairer sex." Sirius said walking into the kitchen. "Ah, you must be Nymphadora." He smiled down at the witch, his gray eyes sparkling with happiness.


	6. To the party

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: I know, I know, another choppy chapter, but I had a lot written before I started it back up, so the first couple of chapters will be like this. So enjoy, and trust in me that it will get better. **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: This is the chapter that you finally see that Harry isn't a male Mary Sue, or rather, a "Gary Stu". He does have faults, and he does have things about him that many people around him keep an eye on. In my version, he's a lot more similar to Voldemort than he would like to admit (although he's not bad at all).

S/N 2: You'll be seeing more of Hermione and Lisa later on, too; this is just an introduction of sorts for them. Oh, and just so you know, I consider Harry, Tonks, and Sirius the three "big" characters of this story.

Chapter 6: To the party…

Getting up from her chair, Tonks put her hand out towards the man, smiling slightly. "Sirius Black." She questioned rhetorically, trying to ease the awkwardness that was rising inside her. Just a few days ago she thought the worse of this man, and now…now she was shaking his hand, hoping he was as good of a guy as Harry said he was.

Shaking the outstretched hand, Sirius got a good look at his godson's girlfriend. She had a pretty, pale, heart-shaped face. Her hair was long, and golden. Being an auror, she had a fit body that allowed her to run and move quickly if need be. "So you're the one Harry's told me 'oh so' much about?" Sirius asked, moving his eyes up to meet hers.

Looking over at her boyfriend, the witch cocked an eyebrow. "Depends if it was all good or not?" She asked, a wry grin playing at her lips. Harry played with his fingernails, pretending to pay the conversation no mind.

Sirius laughed. "Well, you are my cousin, so I'd hex him into oblivion if he said anything bad."

"Well, that's nice of you, albeit a little exaggerated." Tonks smiled, easing into her chair as Sirius did the same. The awkward tension seemed to have dissipated as Sirius took his seat, losing himself in the moment.

Flexing his muscles, Sirius shook his head in amazement. "That potion was incredible, Harry. I feel like I'm new again."

Remus nodded in agreement, barely recognizing his old friend. Sirius looked like a forty-year-old version of what he used to look like as a teen. Gone was the gaunt figure, pale complexion, and matted hair, and in its place was a handsome, aristocratic wizard, with long black hair and shinning gray eyes. "You did quite a job, Harry. What was it?"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "I just kept putting things in it. It started as a sleeping draught, but it evolved somehow."

"So you don't even know how you made it?" Sirius asked in a mixture of amusement and amazement.

"Oh, no, I do, I'm just not telling you." Harry said, grinning as he took a bite of his muffin.

Sirius smirked. "That seems highly unfair."

Harry shook his head, while pouring his godfather and himself a glass of orange juice. "You know the saying 'A magician never reveals his secrets'."

Tonks stared at her boyfriend; a small smile crept onto her delicate features. She knew he rarely ever kept his magic secrets to himself, unless, of course, he didn't remember them himself. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"No, I don't" Harry responded with a laugh.

The rest of the meal was spent between Sirius and Tonks getting to know one another. Sirius was marveled by Tonks' metamorphmagus abilities, just as she was impressed by his animagus abilities. Both respected the other in magic and as people, and could tell they would be seeing a lot of each other from now on. "So, where will you live?" Tonks asked, while Remus and Harry cleaned up the dishes.

Sirius shrugged, not having thought about it before. "I suppose I'll buy a place."

"What about the Black manor? Grimmauld Place, was it?" Remus suggested, swishing his wand and banishing the butter into the refrigerator that was in Harry's kitchen.

Sirius scoffed at that idea, remembering his days as a child in that horrid place. It was dark and gloomy, and had no love in it, not even when it was littered with living Blacks. "I would much rather raze that place, than live in it."

"But you won't." Harry entered the conversation. "You are a Black. A Black should be living in their ancestral home." The young wizard said, looking at Sirius with his intense green gaze.

"Being born into the darkest wizarding family in all of England isn't something I can be proud of, Harry." Sirius replied softly, ashamed of his heritage. The Blacks would marry their own brothers and sisters if it was the only way to guarantee their blood purity. It was a disgusting and misguided habit that Sirius loathed to the core.

"So what?" Harry rebutted, hoping to sway his godfather's opinion. "You're the last of the Blacks. You are in control of how the world views the Black family. Make the word Black synonymous with the side of light. Refurbish the house, but don't out right deny it. In fact, I will help you change the estate of your fathers'."

"I don't know, Harry." Sirius said looking down. What he said was right; he was the last of the Blacks—at least in name—but still. What he was asking was a lot. To go back to a place that holds such wicked memories was something that wouldn't be easy.

Harry cocked an eyebrow, not relenting on his stance. "Fine, then I'll buy it from you."

"I can't let you do that." Sirius said, shaking his head. He looked up at Harry, and sighed in defeat. "When do we start?" _Who knows, maybe it'll be fun, _he thought to himself, wanting nothing more than to spend some time with his godson.

Harry smiled in victory, knowing that in the end Sirius would see what he meant all this time. "Monday morning. I'll bring donuts."

Remus calling Sirius from the fireplace caught the aforementioned wizard's attention. "Come on Sirius, we're leaving."

Sirius furrowed his brows, not knowing what his werewolf friend was talking about. "Where are we going?" He inquired, heading over to the fireplace.

"Harry and I, though mostly Harry, are treating you to a shopping spree." Remus grinned, patting Sirius on the back.

"There's no need." Sirius waved it off. "I'm fine." He said, not wanting to make himself a nuisance. Harry's hospitality was already more than he could ask for; making his godsend pay for him to go shopping was stretching it in Sirius' mind. Of course, Harry didn't see it that way, but Sirius didn't want to step on his toes, since, after all, they only knew each other for barely a week.

Harry put his arm around his godfather's shoulders, knowing what it was that was making Sirius hesitant. "We insist. Sorry I can't come with you, I have some business to attend to. But go and have a good time. We'll have dinner tonight."

Sirius gave a small laugh, recognizing Harry's mischievous grin as if it were James'. "Well if you insist. Who am I to say no?"

"That a boy." Remus laughed. "Till tonight guys." Throwing some powder into the fireplace, Remus yelled out his destination. "Diagon Alley!"

Sirius grabbed a handful of powder and made his way into the fireplace, as well. "Thank you for everything again, Harry." At his godson's smile, he yelled out his destination. "Diagon Alley!"

Harry turned back to his girlfriend, ready to start setting up for the party. Seeing her face, he raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You were a little hard on him about that stupid Black manor, don't you think?" She questioned.

Harry took out his wand, and made a few gestures. Streamers and party favors jumped out the tip, and raced towards their spots, where they stuck to the walls and ceiling. "No, not really." Harry shrugged. "He's a Black, he should at least notice his ancestry."

Tonks shook her head in astonishment. "You're unbelievable. Why are you so obsessed with people's ancestry? If I didn't know you, I'd think you were a Malfoy."

"I don't torment or kill innocent people, now do I?" Harry said, continuing with his decorating. He wasn't angry about what she said. He knew she didn't mean anything by it.

"No," Tonks replied, helping him decorate. "But you might as well go all out in your muggle hating. Why only go half at it?"

Harry turned around to face her, staring at her with his intense green eyes. He bit his lip slightly, thinking about what he was going to say. "You think the worst of me, don't you?"

Tonks looked over at her boyfriend, her eyes shining with love. "No, Harry," She said softly, shaking her head. She ran a hand over his left cheek, caressing it lovingly. "I think the world of you. It's the anger inside of you that I'm afraid of."

Harry nodded, turning back around. Most would think he was angry, even hurt by what she said, but Tonks knew better. She knew he thought she was right. Watching him walk around the room with a furrowed brow, Tonks knew she hit a nerve. "I'll be back in an hour or so." Harry called out from the kitchen. "I have to get some things for the party. Do you need anything?"

"No," Tonks said walking to where he was. "Are you going to a muggle or wizarding store?"

"Muggle." He answered, smiling. "I figured he'd want muggle food since it was the wizards who threw him in Azkaban."

Tonks' eyes fell to the floor, not meeting Harry's. "Harry, listen, I…"

"There's no need, Nymphie." Harry cut her off, pushing her chin up. "I love you, there's no need to apologize."

"I'm sorry." Tonks said.

Harry smiled, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Dinner tomorrow night, just you and me. What do you say?" Before she could answer, he apparated out.

"Don't mind Harry, Padfoot." Remus said, as he and Sirius walked through Diagon Alley. Being a Saturday morning, the stores were packed with people, and children hustled around, playing with their friends. "He gets that way sometimes, you'll get used to it."

Sirius tried not to notice the stares and the people pointing his way. He knew it would happen sooner or later, and was just glad people weren't throwing hexes and curses at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Remus began. "You know Harry had a very difficult childhood, don't you?" At Sirius' nod he continued. "When he first started his muggle schooling, he pushed himself to get good grades. He hoped that if he got good grades, his relatives would treat him better. Well, they didn't treat him better. In fact, they didn't treat him at all. They locked him inside his cupboard, and only let him out for school and to go to the bathroom once a day. While he was inside his cupboard, all he had were his books. He grew to rely on them, and that's why he's brilliant. With the knowledge he gained from his books, he got more powerful. And as you know, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Sirius looked at his good friend confusedly, hoping the man didn't mean what Sirius thought he was implying. "What exactly are you saying?"

"If he weren't the son of Lily and James, we might have had another Voldemort on our hands." Remus replied, grimly.

"He's evil?" Sirius gasped.

Remus shook his head. "Just angry at how he was treated by the muggles. He prides himself as a wizard, that's why he chastised you about destroying the Black manor. There's no need to worry, though. He has it under complete control." At that Remus gave out a small laugh. "To think, Padfoot, the boy's flaws make me respect him even more. To have so much anger, as well as so much power, and not use it for malevolent purposes is incredible. Just like Dumbledore."

Sirius sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It's my fault, Remus. If I didn't run off to look for Peter, Harry would have been raised properly."

"No," Remus said, disagreeing. "Even if you didn't go after Peter, I doubt Dumbledore would have allowed you to raise Harry. He wanted Harry safe with someone related to his mother by blood. What's done is done, Sirius. Look to the future, don't try to turn back time."

"This potion that he made really is amazing." Sirius said, changing the subject. It was too difficult to talk about his own failures, and Harry's horrid past. "Is potions his best subject?"

"No," Remus replied, grinning slightly. "He's good in potions, but he's no Severus Snape, that's for sure. Heck, he's probably not even as good as Lily was." Sirius growled at the name of Snape, his hatred for the man rising up in his chest. "Calm down, Sirius; Harry and Snape have a mutual respect for one another. They're both very powerful wizards. Snape's even more powerful than I am. They're not friends by any means, nor even acquaintances, but they're not at each other's throats, that's for sure."

"What is his best subject, then?" Sirius asked, not wanting to hear anything more about Snape. Even after all his years in Azkaban, the greasy wizard still grinds his gears.

"Charms." Remus said simply, opening up the door to Gringotts so they could get some money. "You've seen that cabinet, haven't you? I still don't even understand how he did it."

Harry got back to his flat an hour before the guests would arrive. Hearing voices in his kitchen, the young wizard walked in with his bags. "We were wondering when you were going to get back." Cedric said, as he began to enlarge the bags Harry had just taken out of his pockets.

"Yeah, well, I needed to get a few things for tomorrow." Harry replied, noticing his girlfriend wasn't in the room.

Hermione smiled, knowing just what it was that Harry had meant. "Tomorrow's the big day, then?" She questioned, wondering just when the 'great Harry Potter' would settle down. Harry and her were good friends, even without her being married to Viktor, one of Harry's best friends. They had been Head boy and girl together their last year in Hogwarts, and had grown extremely close throughout that year; plus, they had been pretty close friends before their seventh year, as well.

Harry nodded, and gave the women in the room a kiss on the cheek hello. "Yeah, I'm kind of nervous. When did all of you get here, anyway?"

"Not too long ago." Lisa Davies nee Turpin, Roger's wife, said. She was a pretty girl, with long, straight brown hair, and brilliant violet eyes. Being in Ravenclaw, she was incredibly clever—although weak magically—and had been friends with Harry ever since his first train ride to Hogwarts; they shared a compartment together with Hermione, who just happened to be Lisa's best friend. "Roger should be here any minute." Lisa said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Where is he?"

"Dropping off Harmony at his parents' house." Lisa responded.

Running his hand through his hair, Harry began walking to his room. "Can you guys handle putting out the food for me?" Seeing their nods, he smiled and left. Entering his room, he saw Tonks looking at herself in the mirror. Watching her with out being noticed, Harry couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. "What's the point of even looking in the mirror, you're always beautiful."

Tonks turned at his voice, and gave him a broad smile. "Think so?"

"No," Harry said making his way towards her. "I know so."

Giving her a passionate kiss, Harry embraced her like he hadn't seen her for years. Stepping back, Tonks took a deep breath. "What was that for? Not that I'm complaining or anything."

Harry shrugged. "For acting like a prat before to you and Sirius."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "You weren't a prat, Harry. I'm going to go get ready for the party, I'll be back in a few minutes."

It wasn't long before the guests began to arrive. Always prompt, Dumbledore was the first to walk in. Next were some former Order members and schoolmates that Sirius had been friends with before being incarcerated. Lastly were some notable wizards and witches from around the world that Harry thought Sirius might like, like former teachers, acquaintances, etc.

"Surprise!" They all said, as the fireplace roared with green flames. Unfortunately, however, it was just Remus. The werewolf threw some bags down on the ground, and ran to his spot next to Harry, saying, "Get ready, he's coming next."

Slowly, as if it were in slow motion, the flames erupted green again, signifying someone was being transported via the floo system. As the flames began to die down, Sirius Black, the man once known as Voldemort's second and most powerful, stepped out into the crowded room.

"Surprise!" The group yelled again, as Sirius stared agape at them all. There were people he hadn't seen in years, and some people he had only seen a few times in his life. He immediately saw his cousin, Andromeda, standing off to the side with her arm around Nymphadora. He smiled at her, giving a small wave somewhat awkwardly. She, in turn, smiled back, motioning for him to come over, which he complied with.

"Andromeda!" Sirius cried, engulfing her in a big hug. He pulled back, checking her out for the first time in over twenty-six years. He had never seen his cousin after she got pregnant with Nymphadora for fear of retribution from the rest of the family. "It's so great to see you."

"It's great to see you, too, Sirius." Andromeda smiled, wiping a tear away. All the emotion of thinking the worst about Sirius came pouring back the second he stepped out of the fireplace. "I'm so sorry…so sorry." She whispered to him sadly, not needing to say what she was sorry for.

"Shh." He replied, giving her another hug. "There's no need to apologize, the past is the past. Let's just look towards the future, okay?" He grinned at her, his eyes flicking over to the older-looking man that stood behind her. His hair was graying, but Sirius could tell he was around Andromeda's age; which was just five years older than his own. "Ted, I presume?" He asked, putting his hand out.

"Yup. It's nice to meet you, Sirius." The man said, shaking the ex-prisoner's hand politely. "Andromeda told me so much about you last night. She stayed up until three in the morning just gushing about stories from when you two were children."

"Did she now?" Sirius muttered, his eyes shifting to a smiling Andromeda. "Well, then, I'm going to have to hear these stories of her's later on." He gave her one last hug, before turning and saying hello to all his former friends, colleagues, and acquaintances.

Before anyone knew it, the party was in full swing. People were laughing, smiling, drinking and eating, generally having a good time. Sirius excused himself from a conversation with Harry and Dumbledore, heading over to where Remus was talking to two women; one was a long blonde haired, stately looking witch; while the other had pink cheeks, and medium length black hair. "Hey, Moony."

"Sirius, hey!" Remus replied, glancing towards the man. "You remember Hestia Jones," He gestured to the witch with black hair. "And I don't remember if you ever met Emmeline."

"No," Sirius said, shaking his head. He ran his eyes over Emmeline's figure, smiling in appreciation. "I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure. Sirius Black at your service."

"Emmeline Vance." The witch supplied, grinning. "I'm charmed to meet you." She said, happily. She was no older than thirty-five, having been just old enough to fight against Voldemort when the Dark Lord fell.

"I'm sure you are." Sirius replied as he threw his long black hair over his shoulder. Remus rolled his eyes with a slight smirk, as he grabbed Hestia's hand and steered her over to get a drink. Hestia Jones was a witch who had just joined the Order when Voldemort was defeated, and had been friends with Remus during the rough days when he couldn't find work. They dated on and off, and always had a thing for each other, but never really moved forward with it.

The rest of the night passed in good times. Sirius had started something with Emmeline, and enjoyed his first night as a free man immensely. Sure, the fact that he missed twenty years of his life angered him, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Instead of dwelling on the past, he would put his energy into making his future the best it could possibly be.


	7. Grim old ring

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: I know, I know, another choppy chapter, but I had a lot written before I started it back up, so the first couple of chapters will be like this. So enjoy, and trust in me that it will get better. **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: So this chapter is a little "Honks" fluff, hope you guys like it, and someone makes his first appearance in this story this chapter that I think will make you all smile. Oh, and just so I get this out since the book is only a few days away: I think a horcrux should be in Gringotts.

S/N 2: Next chapter you'll get a little information about Harry from Sirius, too; or, rather, you'll get information about the Potters.

Chapter 7: Grim old ring

Sirius was moving on with his life on Sunday night, sitting with Remus, Hestia, and Emmeline in Harry's living room, enjoying himself. Being his second full day as a free man, the wizard just rested and relaxed, preparing himself for the coming week that would surely be tiring. "So think he's asked her yet?" He questioned to the group, taking a sip out of his butterbeer. The cold liquid—for that's how he liked it during the spring and summer times—sent a chill down his throat, which made the rest of his body release a shiver, opposite of the warming effect that it would have if served hot.

Remus looked down at his timepiece, biting his lip: 8:30. "I don't know," he shrugged, not really knowing. "If I had to take a guess, I'd say not yet." His eyes rolled to Sirius, who stared back at the werewolf for a few seconds, before turning his attention back to Emmeline, a small smile playing at his lips.

And it was true, for Tonks and Harry were walking down a street hand in hand, basking in the ambiance of each other. They were in an all-wizarding part of Paris, and had just come from a romantic dinner at _Potion D'amour_; or, in English, Love Potion. It was a quaint little place that was lined with candles, and had a string quartet that played live music. Although it was small, wizards and witches from all over the world came to it, hoping to enjoy a little sliver of the wizarding part of the City of Love. The pair stopped on a bridge, as the water of the Seine ran underneath them. Harry watched as a Veela walked past them, curiously not trying to attract him at all.

"It's hard to believe that three and a half years ago, we had our first date at that place." Tonks smiled, looking up into Harry's green eyes. They reflected the bright moon that was glowing high above them, lighting the area with its silver glory.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, remembering that first night at Potion D'amour. He was more nervous that night than he'd ever been in his life, including both of the Quidditch World Cups that he played in. "I knew I would love you from that moment on."

Tonks giggled, batting him on the arm. "Sure, sure, but don't tell that to the other fifty women that were ogling you tonight."

"I'm serious." Harry said, running a hand across her cheek. Once his eyes met hers, he knew this was the moment. With the moon shining brightly above them, and the peaceful sound of the running water below, Harry quietly reached into his pocket with his left hand. "Nymphie, I love you more than life itself. You've been there for me whenever I needed you. You laughed with me, you cried with me, you held me when I was hurt, you made me smile when I was sad, and you calmed me down when the anger became too much."

Tonks continued to look into his gorgeous green eyes, as she tried to swallow the lump that was in her throat. As she was losing herself in his eyes, she failed to see the ring box that Harry was holding securely in his left hand. "I don't know who or where I'd be if you weren't in my life. I know that without you my life wouldn't be complete; it wouldn't be perfect." He smiled at her, flicking his eyes to the ring that was in his hand. "Nymphadora Tonks, I come to you as a man, nothing more, nothing less, to ask: will you be my wife?"

Tonks' breath caught in her chest, as her eyes moved down to the ring. "Yes! Yes, I will." She cried, smiling with tears in her eyes as he slipped the ring onto her finger. Reaching up to his face, she pulled him into a kiss, releasing all the love she could muster. "I love you so much, Harry Potter." She told him, pulling back from the kiss. "Does everyone else know?" She questioned, hoping she would be able to brag to at least one of their friends.

"Pretty much." Harry grinned, sheepishly.

"Cedric? Viktor? Kingsley? Roger? Lisa? Hermione?" Tonks listed off the names of their friends, hoping one of them would be ignorant of their engagement. "All of them? You didn't even leave me one?" She groaned, closing her eyes with a frown. "My parents? Remus? Sirius?"

Harry laughed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't tell Dumbledore, so you can tell him."

"Fine. First thing in the morning, we're flooing into his office, and showing him my ring, got it?" She said, begging him to tell her no. He, of course, just nodded. "Now that we got that over with, when do you want to have our wedding?"

"Soon, I hope." Harry answered, truthfully. There was no need for a long engagement in his opinion, since they've been together for so long already.

"How soon is soon?" She questioned. "Because I want to be known as Mrs. Harry Potter before the World Cup comes around. That way when people see me screaming my head off for you, people can point and say 'oh, that's just his pretty wife Tonks'."

Harry smiled, knowing how loud she could be. Although at the last World Cup they weren't together, he had seen her memory of it in the pensieve, and after coming out of it, he couldn't hear for a week. "How about a month from now?"

"A month?" She repeated, biting her lip. "Can we get it done?" She questioned, going over what they would have to do. There was a lot, what with sending out invitations, getting a band, figuring out what they wanted, it might be too much for them to get done with in a month.

"I can if you can." He replied, studying her reaction.

She continued to bite her lip in thought, running all the things she would need to do through her mind. Finally, looking up at him, she smiled and wrapped him in a hug. "A month it is!" Keeping him in the embrace, she apparated them to the nearest floo connected fireplace, where they flooed to her apartment, kissing each other the second they appeared in her living room. Falling back onto the sofa, their kissing intensified as they rolled over each other. Harry swished his wand distractedly, closing off the loft from all intrusions, locking the doors, creating an apparation ward, and sealing the floo network. After all, it wouldn't be good for people to walk in on them.

"Dumbledore's office!" Harry called out the next morning, throwing floo powder down, and traveling through the roaring green flames. Arriving in the office, he smiled as he saw Tonks already flashing her ring at the Headmaster, positioning her hand so the light glistened off the rock. "Albus." Harry smiled, taking a seat in the chair.

"Congratulations, Nymphadora." Dumbledore said, with his eyes twinkling as he looked at the metamorphmagus. "You two make quite a pair, that is for certain."

"The wedding is in one month's time, so make sure you mark your calendar." Tonks scolded, wagging a finger at him. She looked as if she were a grandmother, talking down to a mischievous grandson; except, with Dumbledore being as old as he was, the illusion was severely lacking.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Dumbledore replied, suppressing the laughter that was aching to get out. Seeing Harry and Nymphadora together gave him energy his old body wouldn't otherwise have.

Harry rose from his chair, kissing Tonks' head. "I've got to go, I have an engagement with Sirius." His eyes flicked over to Dumbledore's. "Albus, we'll talk later?"

"Sure thing." Dumbledore nodded, watching Harry floo back to his home. "So, one month you say, hm?" He said, returning his attention to Tonks.

"About time you got back." Sirius teased, sitting on the couch as Harry stepped out of the fireplace. He wore a simple pair of muggle jeans, and a gray t-shirt, clearly from his shopping spree just days before. "Here I was, thinking I got stood up."

Harry rolled his eyes, taking off his top robe and throwing it onto the table. He liked keeping up appearances when he went out, but with the prospect of cleaning all day—and getting the expensive robe dirty—and the springtime heat, it wasn't worth it. "Ready to go?" He questioned, rolling up his sleeves.

"I thought you were bringing donuts." Sirius pouted, rising from his seat. The man, although in his early forties, acted like a teenager sometimes, which was something that Harry couldn't help but laugh at.

"I am." Harry replied, patting his godfather on the back. "You'll see them when we get there." He looked down at Sirius' wand, noticing it was made out of maple, rather than his father's mahogany. "Is that your new wand?"

"What?" Sirius questioned, looking down at the piece of wood. "Oh, yeah, it is. Maple, twelve inches, dragon heart string. I put your father's back on the mantle in the cabinet." He said, following Harry out of the building, and heading towards Grimmauld Place. It was only a few blocks away, so it was clearly in walking distance. "That was your mother's on the other platform, right?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, crossing the street. "Another gift from Dumbledore on my graduation day."

"He sure does give you a lot of gifts." Sirius muttered, jealousy creeping into his voice. He should have been the one to give Harry family heirlooms, not Dumbledore.

"He also gave me my father's invisibility cloak during my first year. He gave me my pensieve, too." Harry laughed, shrugging. "And most of the advanced books in my magic room. You know, the place I was making the potion for you in?"

"Heir apparent to the Dumbledore throne, huh?" Sirius whispered, realizing just why Dumbledore and Harry were so close. The man was grooming him to make sure someone would be there if another Voldemort was to rise up.

"I…I don't know." Harry replied, sighing. "I guess so. I mean, during my sixth and seventh years, he gave me advanced training during my free time, on top of what Remus was doing with me. He taught me a lot; things that I wouldn't otherwise need unless that's what he intended. For me to take over the 'throne' of light magic, I mean."

"Well, he definitely thinks of you as a grandson, that's for sure." Sirius said, turning onto Grimmauld Place. It was the first time in over twenty-two years that he had been on this godforsaken street. He never dreamed of coming back here; what with being locked up in Azkaban, plus his hatred for what the Blacks represented. He knew, though, that Harry wouldn't stop badgering him until he took control of the Black family house and made it his own. _Nineteen, seventeen, fifteen, ah, thirteen_ Sirius thought to himself, stopping in front of the dark and gloomy townhouse. Looking up at it, he noticed it was exactly the same as it was when he was a child; large, eerie, and seething with darkness. "We're here."

Harry glanced up, frowning at the shabbiness of it. It had potential, he noted, but lacked in the upkeep department. The door, which was painted black, had a silver knocker in the shape of a twisted snake, with neither a letterbox nor a keyhole. The windows, which were placed on each side of the door, were grimy and covered in dust. "How many wards are on this?" He questioned, feeling the magic that surrounded the house.

"I don't know." Sirius answered, darting up the stoop to the door. "Are you any good with wards? Could you check them out for me?"

"I could," Harry shrugged. "But I still have a lot to learn when it comes to things like that. Dumbledore's been helping me with them, but I'm still no where near excellent at it." He watched as Sirius put his hand on the handle, which immediately turned blue and the door swung open as a result. "Wow, powerful magic right there." He said, impressed.

"I guess." Sirius said, taking a step into the dusty, smelly house. It hadn't been touched in over fifteen years, ever since his mother had died. He flicked his wand towards the wall, igniting the candles that were fastened onto it. With another flick of his wand, he cleaned the air in the immediate vicinity, making it less musty and more breathable.

"Well," Harry laughed, slapping Sirius' back. "This sure looks cozy." The wizard strolled farther into the house like he owned the place. Swishing and swirling his wand, Harry cleaned whatever he saw, as if he were a one man cleaning team. He circled around the room, banishing whatever he felt was necessary, as he began to make the house livable. "Zeali!" He called out, coming back around to Sirius.

With a pop, the house elf appeared, a plate of donuts in his arms. "Master Harry, sir, here are the donuts Zeali made for you!" He chirped, shoving the treats into his master's arms. "What else does sir want Zeali to do?"

"Told you I'd bring donuts." Harry smirked, looking at Sirius. "Zeali, this is Sirius. Sirius, this is Zeali." He gestured to each respectively.

"Zeali so glad to meet master's friend. Zeali's heard so much about mister Black." Zeali gushed, hugging Sirius' leg.

"It's good to meet you, too, Zeali." Sirius said, awkwardly patting Zeali's head. "I hear you've been helping Harry out on his house, right?" Zeali nodded happily, grinning madly.

"Zeali," Harry said, taking a bite out of one of the donuts to make sure he didn't hurt the poor elf's feelings. Zeali was still young and prone to sadness, so Harry had to make sure to treat him right. "Your father still works at Hogwarts, right? Well, do you think you can go to him and ask him to come and help us? I've okayed it with Dumbledore, so make sure he knows that." Zeali vanished with a pop, leaving Harry and Sirius alone. "I was thinking you could have his father be your house elf, since it seems like your family's one has been slacking off lately." Harry smirked, his nose flaring to get a good whiff of the putrid smell.

"Kreacher must have died or something." Sirius noted, knowing the elf would have been screaming at him the second he walked into the house. He turned his attention to the two elves that appeared in the room with a pop. One, he knew as Zeali, the other, however, was a young elf—although old enough to have a child—with a long pencil nose, and big, tennis ball-like green eyes, akin to Zeali's. He was a little taller than Zeali, being close to three foot. The new elf, surprisingly, wore an oversized red sweater, with two different socks on his feet.

"Master Harry, sir, my father, Dobby." Zeali chirped, pointing at the house elf next to him.

"Dobby's glad to see Harry Potter, sir." Dobby bowed, looking up at Harry.

"It's good to see you, too, Dobby." Harry smiled, remembering his days back in Hogwarts when he would sneak down to the kitchens with Cedric and Roger to get a midnight snack. Dobby and the other house elves had been more than happy to serve them whatever they wanted. "Did Zeali tell you why I asked you to come?"

"Yes, sir." Dobby nodded vigorously. "Dobby would be most happy to help clean this dark, dark house." The elf shuddered, his eyes glancing around the room. "Dobby knows when a house is dark, for my former master was as dark and as evil as they came."

"Who was that?" Sirius questioned, wondering when the elf became free.

"Dobby must not speak about them." Dobby answered, frowning.

"The Malfoys." Harry supplied, looking down at Dobby. "If I'm not mistaken, they gave you clothes because they had a more 'loyal' elf, correct?"

"Yes," Dobby replied, his frown deepening. "Dobby was a good elf, but they were bad, bad wizards. Dobby was given clothes when the former elf of the house of Black, Kreacher, came to the Malfoys."

"What?" Sirius growled, his eyes narrowing at the elf. "Kreacher is still alive then, huh?"

"Very much so, Mister Black." Dobby said, his eyes flicking to the ex-con. "He didn't do a very good job with this house, Dobby thinks."

Sirius laughed, liking the subtle insult that Dobby threw at Kreacher. "Well, Dobby, I don't know if you'd want to or not, but what do you say you come work for me? I'm sure I could work something out with Headmaster Dumbledore, and you're free to make whatever demands you want. It's just that, as you can see," He gestured to his surroundings. "I'm going to need a lot of help with this house, and I don't want to have to rely on Harry and Zeali to help me. I'd love to be able to clean most of it between us two." He asked, liking the elf enough to take Harry's advice.

"Master Black wants Dobby to come work for him?" Dobby asked, tentatively. It was true that he was happy working at Hogwarts, but working for a good master would make him just as happy, maybe even more so.

"Only if you want to, Dobby." Sirius supplied, hoping he wouldn't scare the elf into working for him. "If you want to stay at Hogwarts, that's fine, I'm just giving you the option since Harry obviously likes you."

"Well, sir, Dobby makes one galleon a month and has one day off a month at Hogwarts." Dobby said. "I like to make my own clothes with the money I receive, sir. Dobby prefers making socks the most, sir."

Sirius smiled, finding Dobby to be the strangest elf he had ever encountered. He had never heard of an elf wanting money or a day off, let alone actually wanting to make his own clothes. The money wouldn't be a problem, for his Uncle Alphard had given him a considerable sum when Sirius had decided to run away from home after his sixth year. Plus, being the sole heir to the Black estate, he had a fortune stowed away in his family's vault. "If that's what you wish, so be it. Although, if you ever want to up that agreement, all you have to do is ask."

"No, no, sir!" Dobby cried, fear in his eyes. "Dobby doesn't want too much. What Dobby asked for is more than Dobby could have ever dreamed of."

"Then what do you say?" Sirius asked, bending down so he was eye level with the elf. "Would you like to come work with me? Help an old man like me get back into the swing of things?"

"Old?" Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. By wizard standards, being that most had double the lifespan of a muggle, Sirius was in the prime of his life.

"I will, sir." Dobby nodded. "But Master Dumbledore is a good man, I want to ask him for permission."

"I already did for you, Dobby." Harry said, taking another donut from the plate. "He said he'd be fine if you wanted to leave Hogwarts. Whatever makes you happy, he told me. But if you want to ask him for yourself, then go ahead."

"I do, sir." Dobby replied. "I will be back with my things if Dumbledore allows it." He said, before disappearing with a pop. Being a house elf, with different magic than wizards, he could apparate and disapparate to and fro Hogwarts whenever he wanted to.


	8. Welsh and the Tree of Madness

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: I know, I know, another choppy chapter, but I had a lot written before I started it back up, so the first couple of chapters will be like this. So enjoy, and trust in me that it will get better. **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Sorry for the long wait but I've been on vacation and I had to rework some of my story because, to be honest, Deathly Hallows stole some of my material! So in order to keep it original and fresh, I had to redo some of my plotlines, which took quite a long time. There is, however, a good thing in that I added another character to this story later on that I think you'll all like, because he was just too good in DH that I couldn't pass the opportunity up. Any guesses who?

S/N 2: Now, as for this chapter: you remember way back when, when I said that I changed up a few things about the Black family tree? Well, you'll see it come into fruition in this chapter; I've also taken a few liberties with the Potters, such as their heritage that I happen to enjoy (here's a little tidbit of info: Godric's Hollow is in Wales in my story). And as for this "animagus friend of Harry's", he's pretty integral to the plot, so make sure you remember him because he'll be showing up a lot later on, and he'll be as mysterious then as he is now. In other words, start guessing on who it is because otherwise you won't know till the end. Anyone who reviews and tells me who they think it is will get the next chapter right away, so you might want to try your hand at it. Here's a hint: he has been in Hogwarts during the books (won't tell you when he started, or if he was a teacher, or anything else, just that).

Chapter 8: Welsh and the Tree of Madness

"Well then, shall we?" Sirius clapped, heading towards the door on the other side of the room, which led to the kitchen. The kitchen was medium-sized and dirty, with magical appliances, rather than muggle ones; it had a small table in the corner, which was made out of a dark mahogany. He went straight for another door that was next to the stove, which led to the depths of the house. The basement was mainly used as a dinning room, though there was more than enough room to have other uses for it, as well. "I figured we should work our way up, so we'll start in the basement if that's okay with you."

"Whatever you want, Sirius." Harry admitted, following his godfather with his house elf right on his heels. He reached down and rubbed Zeali's shoulder, smiling brightly. His house elf smiled back up to him, his eyes wide as saucers. "This house has pretty good charm work on it, being that it's a lot bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed, marveling at the work as well. He hated the house that was for sure, but there was a certain majesty about it that marveled him. "Being the ancestral home of the Blacks, not the only home mind you, just the one for the main line of the family, I'd expect nothing less." As he opened up the door that led down the stairs, a wail carried around the whole of the house. It was loud and obnoxious, which allowed Sirius to recognize the voice right away. "Oh, Merlin, her portrait's awake." He cringed, stamping down the stairs to view the picture for the first time.

"YOU!" A woman screamed, pointing a deadly finger at Sirius. Her hair was long and gray, her skin was yellow and pulled tight to her face—she looked as if she was a decaying corpse. "Blood traitor to the Noble and Ancient House of Black! Get out of the house of my father's fathers. Leave now."

"Mother, so nice to see you again." Sirius said, sarcasm lacing his every word. He took out his wand and pointed it at the picture. "Thanks for stopping by, but now is just not a good time." A yellow beam of energy swirled at the tip of his wand, jetting towards the picture once he released it. It hit the portrait dead on, but had zero effect.

"Always thought yourself more powerful than what you actually were, didn't you, blood traitor?" Walburga Black sneered down at her son. The son she disowned many years ago for betraying his own family. "Good riddance you left the family, we wouldn't want a weakling like you to smear our good name."

"Good name?" Sirius laughed, hollowly. He walked over, bearing his mother's constant screaming, and inspected the portrait. "Permanent sticking charm, eh?" He swirled his wand, said a few spells, yet still nothing happened. "Hm." He murmured, running his right hand over his chin in thought. This would be harder than he thought it would.

"Okay, she's annoying." Harry muttered, as he and Zeali cleaned up some stuff in the corner. Whipping out his wand, he barked out his spell, and the witch went silent. You could still see she was screaming in her portrait, but nothing was coming out of her mouth, as if she were a movie with no sound. "There, much better."

Around ten minutes later, Sirius sighed, dropping into the seat across from the portrait. Walburga was still trying to scream her lungs out, but thanks to Harry's charm, she was as quiet as a sleeping baby. That, however, wouldn't stop her from trying to scream at her supposed blood traitor of a son. "I'm out of ideas on how to get the picture down, Harry."

"Dobby will do it, sir." Dobby said, appearing out of nowhere with a crack. He spun around, stared pointedly at the portrait and snapped his fingers, almost lazily. The portrait dropped to the floor immediately, and Walburga's eyes went wide with a mix of fear and astonishment. "Where should Dobby put the portrait, Sirius, sir?"

Sirius cocked an eyebrow; surprised Dobby got it down so easily. "Um, the garbage? I don't care where it goes, just get it out of my sight." Dobby nodded, and again snapped his fingers, making the portrait disappear with a puff of smoke. "Thank you, Dobby." Dobby smiled up at Sirius, proud of himself.

"Dobby will put his things underneath the sink, okay, Mister Sirius, sir?" Dobby said, picking up the satchel of items, mostly yarn and needles, and various pieces of clothing that he had made over the years, that was lying next to him.

"Underneath the sink?" Sirius laughed, shaking his head. "No, you're not living under a sink, Dobby." He replied, looking down at the elf. "You won't allow me to give you a room upstairs, will you?" He questioned, watching as Dobby's eyes went wide, and he started to shake his head vehemently, as if the thought was absurd. "Fine, you won't take a room upstairs, and I won't allow you to live under a sink…so what do we do?" Sirius thought out loud, glancing around the room. Then, seeing a door in the corner of the room, he smiled, remembering just what it was that was behind the door. "How about a room in the basement? It's not as big as a room upstairs, but…it's not under a sink, either." He gestured for Dobby to follow him as he walked over to the wooden door, throwing it open and allowing the dust to flow out. "It'll need some cleaning, but what do you say? It was a sewing room, or rather it would have been if my mother sewed."

"Dobby has never had his own room before, Sirius, sir." Dobby cried, tears welling up in his eyes. Even with having only known Sirius for barely an hour, the elf had already grown affection towards the wizard, proud to be serving such a good and noble man. "Dobby's honored, sir."

"Good, then it's yours." Sirius smiled, waving his wand and cleaning the air inside the small room. Thrown around the room were pieces of furniture, and sets of robes that had long since been discarded, making the room appear clogged and cluttered. The elf placed his satchel on one of the racks that was in the room, turning and closing the door with a soft click, and then heading over to Harry and Zeali to help them clean. Sirius' eyes flicked over to Harry, who was casually cleaning the dirt from the corner of the room. "Harry, I want to know something. How did you become an animagus by yourself? I mean, it took me and James three years to do it, and we just barely managed it."

"I only did about ninety percent of the research by myself." Harry replied, keeping his back towards Sirius. "Even still, it took two and a half years." He said, not missing a beat with his cleaning.

"Ninety percent? What about the other ten?" Sirius questioned, intrigued now. If he only did ninety percent, then how was he able to turn into a beautiful, strong, and majestic white Bengal tiger?

"I was caught when I first tried to transform." Harry said, shrugging a little. A small smile crept onto his face, remembering the day during his sixth year when he was writhing around on the floor of a room he thought no one else knew about; which turned out to be a thought that was wrong. "And then my friend helped me the rest of the way, and I helped him become one as well."

"Cedric? Roger?" Sirius asked, wondering which one of his friends was also an animagus. He remembered his time researching the spells to transform; it was long and tedious work that most wouldn't even have the patience for, let alone the skill to actually go through with it.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "You don't know him. And, even if you did, I wouldn't tell you who it was; it's not my secret to tell. Being an unknown animagus helped you in Azkaban, and has helped me escape a few mishaps as well. I can't take that away from him, and risk that something happens and he can't do anything." He turned around, giving Sirius a smile. "I basically did it on my own, though. I mean, I was almost able to do it before he came into the picture, and then after, all he did was make sure I didn't kill myself trying."

"Either way, it's still impressive." Sirius said, resuming his cleaning.

The quartet worked down in the basement for the next two hours. They cleaned, renewed, and chucked things out, completely skeletonizing the room. Most of it, in Sirius' opinion, was junk that had no place in the new house of Black. He would do as Harry had told him and make sure the house of Black was known as an honorable and decent one, rather than noble and ancient. New blood would come into the family, he knew that, for Tonks was a Black herself, plus he planned on finding someone to marry himself.

The two wizards moved up the stairs and began to clean out the drawing room, while the two house elves left to cook lunch. The pair used this time to bond, as each would do something goofy with a piece of trash that was headed to the garbage. "Think we'll finish the first floor by the end of the day?" Harry questioned, banishing a few old and dusty daggers.

"Probably not." Sirius answered, zapping Harry with a tickling charm. "I'm not expecting to be finished within the next two weeks, and that's with house elves to help. Imagine if they weren't here? It'd take a month, and that's at the very least."

Zeali appeared with a pop, bowing his head slightly. "Lunch is ready, Master Harry, sir." He said in his high, squeaky voice that was similar to his father Dobby's.

"Oh," Harry smiled, turning around and pocketing his wand. "Thank you, Zeali, we'll be there in a second." Zeali disappeared with a pop, as Sirius headed towards the kitchen. "It's almost livable, or, rather, the bottom two floors are, at least." Sirius nodded, and the pair entered the kitchen, their eyes immediately flicking to the plate of sandwiches and jug of pumpkin juice that was on the table. "Mm, thanks guys, it looks great."

They enjoyed their lunch in relative silence, each too lost in their own thoughts to make conversation. The silence was peaceful, rather than awkward so neither felt the need to start something. Harry was thinking about the next three months, which would probably the busiest time of his life. He not only had to plan a wedding—although Tonks and Andromeda said they would do most of it—he had to help Sirius with his house, and train for the World Cup that was looming on the horizon. He knew that Viktor would be leaving for Bulgaria in a few weeks to train with his team, so England would be calling him to train soon, as well.

Sirius on the other hand was pondering about his future. Did people still believe that he was a Death Eater? Sure, his name was cleared by the Ministry, but was the general opinion all the same? The only time he had gone out in public was when Remus had taken him shopping. That day everyone was looking and pointing at him like he was a caged animal at a zoo. He hoped that was just because he was found innocent the day before and not from any real fear or hatred of him. It didn't help that people thought the worst of him even before he went to Azkaban just because of his name, either.

Seeing Sirius' frowning face, Harry decided to get his mind off whatever subject the man was thinking about. "It's in Wales." Harry said, hoping that would help. _An air of mysteriousness always brings out curiosity_, he thought to himself.

"What is?" Sirius questioned, turning his attention to his godson.

"My home." Harry answered with a smirk. "Or, rather, the manor for the Potters that I built."

Sirius cocked an eyebrow, looking at Harry quizzically. "I thought you were waiting till your wedding to divulge any and all information of it?" He questioned, honored by being the first person—or so he thought—to hear anything about the place that Harry had been working on for the last four years.

"Yeah, well," Harry grinned, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "I figured you wanted to know." He said, knowing that slowly, but surely, Sirius was filling the hole that was in his life; the hole that no other person could fill.

"The Potters are from Wales, you know." Sirius told him, taking a sip from his pumpkin juice. He didn't know if Harry knew anything about his parents, he assumed Remus had told him at least something, but if the man didn't, then he would supply whatever information Harry wanted. "Your father was Welsh."

"Gwybod." Harry replied, wondering if Sirius would understand it.

"You speak Welsh?" Sirius questioned, surprised. He recognized the language, but didn't know what it was that Harry had said.

Harry nodded, chewing another bite of his sandwich. "Yeah, when I traveled before my seventh year, I started to pick it up. I consider myself Welsh, which is funny considering I play for the British quidditch team. Remus had told me about the Potters being an ancient and pureblooded wizarding family from Wales, so I began to get in touch with that side of my family. Did my father speak Welsh?"

"Not really." Sirius said, shaking his head. "A few words here and there, but nothing to rave about. His father, your grandfather, did, though. Are you fluent?"

"Yup." Harry answered. "Did he not care that he was Welsh, or just never got around to learning it?"

"A little bit of both, I think." Sirius shrugged, remembering that James never really cared about his heritage. Seeing Harry was finished with lunch, Sirius said, "Come on, I want to show you something." They both rose from their seats, and Sirius led the way out of the freshly cleaned kitchen, and into the foyer. He headed for the stairs, making his way up them to the second floor landing, Harry following closely behind him. "I imagine it's still here." He said, as Harry scanned the floor, marveling at the size of the house. It was dusty and dirty, but the grandeur could still be seen.

"After this, I think I want to take a look around the house." Harry noted, wanting to see what everything looked like. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Right," Sirius whispered, throwing open a brown wooden door. "Here." Harry's eyes moved around the room, noticing it was a study lined with bookshelves, desks, and couches. He grimaced as he saw the mounted house elf heads on display on the far wall, as if they were wild boars that were hunted down. There were around seven of them, each with a distinctive look. Underneath the heads was what looked to be the centerpiece of the room. It was a large tapestry that had branches and names all over it, with a few scattered burn holes on it as well. "The House of Black family tree." Sirius grunted, pointing to said tapestry.

The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though doxys had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back—as far as Harry could tell—to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read: _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black '__Toujours __Pur__'._

"I haven't looked at this in years." Sirius said, walking over to inspect the tree. "There's Phineas Nigellus, our great-great-grandfather, least popular Headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. Here, look, Araminta Meliflua, cousin of my mother's; she actually tried to force through a ministry bill to make muggle hunting legal." Sirius laughed, mockingly. "Ah, then there's dear Aunt Elladora, she was the one who started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they get too old to carry tea trays." He gestured to the head plaques on the wall that Harry had noticed the second he came into the room.

"I don't see you on this." Harry said, studying the tapestry. "Nor do I see Andromeda or Nymphie."

"Oh, I'm there." Sirius laughed. He pointed to a burn hole that was next to Regulus Black, under the marriage line of Walburga and Orion Black. "That's me, you see? Any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. Of course, my mother Walburga, as you've already met, would take it a step further and blast them off of the family tree." He grabbed his wand and pretended to blast off a few names, showing Harry what he meant. Then he pointed to a few burn marks; one was his; another was his cousin, Andromeda; then another was an Uncle; there were a few other, more distant relatives burned off as well. "Since Andromeda married Ted Tonks, who as you know is a muggleborn, she was immediately blasted off; while her sisters Bellatrix—who is the craziest inmate of Azkaban—and Narcissa are still on there because they married 'respectable', pureblooded men."

"It's strange to actually see tangible proof that Draco Malfoy is Nymphie's cousin." Harry whispered, shaking his head. "I mean, I always knew it, but…it's just weird."

"Yeah, well, most English pureblood families are interrelated in some way or another. Actually, there are just about two different factions or groups of families that like to interrelate; mine and the other which has the Smiths, Princes, Notts, Davies, Diggorys, Hitchens, etc." Sirius answered, shrugging. "Which brings me to the reason I brought you up here in the first place." He pointed to an area of the family tree that Harry had not noticed before. It was a different branch of the family from Sirius', which was the one the pair had been looking at.

Harry's eyes gazed up to where Sirius was pointing to. Underneath the marriage line of Arcturus Black and Lysandra Yaxley was three daughters: Callidora Black, Charis Black, and Dorea Black. Callidora was married to Harfang Longbottom, who happened to be Neville Longbottom's great-grandparents, by way of their only son—they had a daughter, as well. Charis Black had one son and two daughters with Caspar Crouch—that one son being Barty Crouch, Sr.. Dorea Black, which peaked Harry's interest immensely, was married to Charlus Potter, and they had only one child: a boy named James. "Am I…?"

Sirius nodded, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Remus never told you about them, did he? I guess he wouldn't," Sirius mused, smiling fondly. "He always called them Mr. and Mrs. Potter, never by their first names. I doubt he even knew them, honestly. But, yes, Harry, they are your grandparents. We're something like third cousins or even further than that, I don't really remember the terms."

"That means I'm Nymphie's distant cousin, once removed." Harry whispered, a little creeped out. It was wizarding custom to marry second cousins if you wanted to keep blood purity, maybe even first cousins depending on how fanatical the family is, but to Harry it was a little disturbing. And, by the looks of it, some generations of Blacks were stricter about keeping their blood pure than others were.

Sirius' eyes flicked over to Harry. "Don't worry about that, kid. The Potters have only married into the Blacks once, which were your grandparents, who were very much in love with each other. And your closest common ancestor was seven generations ago, who died two hundred years ago. Plus, you two are both half bloods, which just adds to your diversity from one another. It's not that big of a deal, honestly. There's no harm in it; I mean, look at my parents, they were second cousins with each other. Meanwhile, you and Nymphadora aren't even close cousins, so you're fine."

"Oh, I know, I was just a little startled, that's all. Distant cousins, especially ones once removed, are nothing; even muggles don't have a problem with it. We're what, like, seventh cousins, if that close?" Harry replied, shaking his head, and doubting there was even such thing as seventh cousins. "I'm related to Barty Crouch and Neville Longbottom, huh? That's funny."

"I'm actually pretty surprised your great-grandparents, Arcturus and Lysandra Black, are on this." Sirius muttered, biting his lip. "They were actually good people; had good daughters, who married into good, pureblooded families, unlike the Blacks. The Longbottoms, the Potters, and the Crouchs; can't get as good as them. Sure, the Crouchs' had one bad egg in Barty Crouch, jr. but overall they're a pretty good wizarding family. I would have thought my mother, or her mother, would have blasted that whole line off, being that they were 'blood traitors' and all."

"Are you going to keep this?" Harry asked, drawing his eyes away from the tapestry for the first time. It was fascinating to see such dated history as the Black family tree. After all, it went all the way back to the time of the Founders.

"If I do, it won't be shown, that's for sure." Sirius replied, strolling around the dirtied room, examining the different books and devices. "I'm going to make a new one showing the good Blacks, as soon as I get done with refurbishing this house. You've really made me open my eyes, Harry. I want to make the Black name a good one; not only for myself, but just to spite my parents, as well." He opened up a drawer of one of the desks, and out popped Harry's dead body. He stared at it for a few seconds, losing himself in the fear that it represented.

"Riddikulus!" Harry yelled out, pointing his wand at the being, and closing the drawer back up, trapping it inside. "Are you okay?" Harry questioned, walking over to Sirius, whose eyes were opened wide with shock.

"Yeah," He replied, shaking the cobwebs out of his head. "Sorry about that." He turned around quickly, not meeting Harry's eyes.

"I won't die, you know." Harry said softly, putting his hand on his godfather's shoulder. "I've stayed alive for this long, after all."

"It's not only that." Sirius whispered. "You see, I promised your father that I would protect you. I promised him that I would take care of you. And I've broken that promise, and if you do die, I'd not only lose you, but lose my best friend, too. And that…that's something I can't take."

"Like I said, Sirius," Harry scolded. "Me growing up with the Dursleys was not your fault; my father won't hold that against you. What happened is in the past, keep it there, okay?"

Sirius smiled, raising his wand and banishing the boggart filled drawer into an empty trunk that was in the corner. Closing the trunk, he locked it with a spell, sealing the shape-shifting beast in it until they could safely get rid of it. "You want to clean this room up, instead of working on the first floor?" Sirius asked, running his wand over one of the couches, clearing the dust away with a scourgify spell.


	9. Black Brotherly Love

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Just so you all know, the story will start picking up in a few chapters, I would say around chapter 15. I also want to tell you that I don't like creating my own spells because I feel it takes away the magic from the real Harry Potter books, so if I just say "He flicked his wand…and then the result", that's the reason why. I know it prevents you from seeing the true power of the wizard/witch, Harry in particular, but you still get the drift. The chapter I just wrote, however, (which just so happens to be the best chapter I've ever written in my opinion) is chock full of spells of my own creation, so I sometimes do create my own.

S/N 2: This is the last chapter of what I like to call the Grimmauld Place arc: the beginning of the next chapter has a little bit of Grimmauld Place, but the house isn't the center of the plot of it. And last chapter I mentioned adding a character that was in DH, but this is not him…its another person, but I'll tell you more about it next chapter since I don't want to spoil the surprise in this one! Oh, and Harry's animagus friend still is important (and I dropped you a hint about it based around Sirius' thoughts about meeting him one day and not even realizing it).

Chapter 9: Black Brotherly Love

There was a soft tap on the dirt-ridden window that was on the other side of the room. Flicking his wand, Harry said, "Tergeo", cleaning up the window and allowing people to see out of it. "Cedric's owl, Tootsie." Harry grinned, recognizing the eagle owl. Opening the window, he unhooked the letter, and gave the owl passage into the room. "I'm going to leave this window open, let some air in, you know?" Sirius nodded, and went back to work, letting Harry to read his letter in private. Harry unrolled the parchment and ran his eyes down it, it read:

_Harry,_

_I checked up on your plan and we're in luck. You were right; the owner does want to sell, due to her being old and wanting to retire. I asked how much she wanted for it, and it's reasonable. Let me know if you're still in, and I'll take care of it within the week. _

_Cedric_

Harry smiled, while grabbing a quill that was on one of the desks, and writing: _I'm in. Let me know what's happening tonight. Harry. _He hooked the letter back onto Tootsie's leg, who immediately took off, leaving Harry and Sirius alone. "Well, looks like I'm going to be owning an apartment building for wizards."

"Speaking of which," Sirius replied, continuing the cleaning. "Think I can get in on that? I think it would be fun to join you guys in your business ventures. After all, you guys make a bundle of money, right?"

"You can afford it?" Harry questioned, grimacing at the rudeness of the question. "I'm sorry, I…I didn't mean it like that."

Sirius laughed, flipping his apology off. "Yeah, the Blacks have a sizeable account in Gringotts, plus I got a healthy sum of money from my Uncle Alphard—another Black who was blasted off the tapestry."

"Good, then you're in if you want to be." Harry agreed, turning his attention to a bunch of shelves that were laden with magical devices. Most of them were broken or otherwise junk, but one object caught Harry's fancy in particular. It was a heavy golden locket, ornate with a serpentine S that was akin to Slytherin's Hogwarts symbol. He filed it off to the side, away from the other items for future studying. "We like taking on partners, since it allows us greater profit margins."

"How did Cedric make his money?" Sirius asked, as he banished away a nest of dead puffskeins that were found in the sofa cushions. "I have rudimentary knowledge on how you did it, but if I remember correctly, the Diggorys weren't really a well-off family."

"He won the Tri-wizard cup." Harry answered simply. "Using his prize money, which was like a thousand galleons, he invested it. Add that with his career, and all of his business earnings, he's pretty loaded. Roger's parents owned the Owl Emporium beforehand, so he came from money. And Viktor makes a ton off of quidditch endorsements, plus the earnings off of his national team. We're not fools with our money, you know? We invest; we make sure it's always moving. You have to spend money to make it."

"Career? What does Cedric do?" Sirius inquired, moving onto the next piece of furniture as the couch that he was working on was finished. It was a brown leather chair that had a grease-like substance on one of cushions.

"He's an Advocator, actually." Harry laughed, using the scourgify spell to clean off the wood of the shelves. "Has an office in Diagon Alley; building 107, if I remember correctly. But that's just a means to an end, I reckon. Deep down, we're pretty sure he wants to be the Minister of Magic one day." Sirius' eyes flicked over to Harry. There was something in the man's voice that Sirius couldn't quite decipher.

Deciding to think about it later, Sirius asked, "So that animagus friend of yours, is he a good wizard? Brilliant like you?" He questioned, his curiosity getting the best of him. He knew that Harry was friends with the man, and that he would most likely meet him one day and not even realize it, probably at Harry's wedding, or maybe even before that.

Harry laughed, flipping off Sirius' compliment as a load of baloney. "I'm not brilliant, but yeah, he's a great wizard. Not on Dumbledore's level, but he's as good as Cedric, Remus, and you." He said, knowing that there were few wizards who were better than those three; he had seen some of the spells Sirius had done when trying to get the portrait of his mother down, and was rather impressed. Roger, Tonks, Viktor, and even Hermione—with all her bookish knowledge—were just a step below, yet still on the better end of the wizarding world. Snape and Kingsley were maybe just a tad higher, with both being extremely powerful wizards, though not much more than Sirius.

His voice had went back to what it was, making Sirius furrow his brows, wanting to figure it out just why it had changed when mentioning Cedric being Minister of Magic one day. _Was he jealous_, Sirius asked himself, though shaking it off the second it entered his head: it wasn't a jealous sound, it was almost prideful as if he wanted Cedric to be the Minister. A loud knock on the front door from a floor below threw the man out of his thoughts before he could figure it out, however. Leaving Harry to continue with the cleaning, Sirius ran down the stairs to answer the door.

"Dobby will get it, Master Black." Dobby said, walking out of the first floor drawing room where he and Zeali were cleaning. Dobby was a few steps ahead of Sirius, who slowed his pace down, allowing the elf to lead.

"Please, Dobby, call me Sirius." Sirius chided, following behind the elf towards the door. He watched as the elf opened the door, granting Sirius view of the three people who had been the ones to knock. Andromeda, Nymphadora, and Remus were standing on the stoop, smiling brightly. "What are you guys doing here? And don't you have class, Remus?" He questioned, knowing that Hogwarts was still in session.

"It's three o'clock, Padfoot. Classes are finished for the day." Remus replied, moving around Dobby and entering the house. He looked around, grimacing at the dilapidated state that it was in. His nose flared out a little, as the musty smell of the room entered his nostrils; there was a hint of blood, sweat, and mold. "Woof, when you said it would need work, you weren't kidding."

Sirius rolled his eyes, kissing Andromeda on the cheek. "Thanks a lot, Moony. You did just offer your services, did you not?" He laughed at the look of aghast that Remus had on his face.

"Where's Harry?" Tonks questioned, scanning the foyer for her fiancé. _Ha, fiancé, I love it_, Tonks thought to herself. "Or, rather, where's my fiancé?" She grinned from ear to ear.

"Congratulations, by the way." Sirius smiled, genuinely happy for the couple. He could see the pair loved each other immensely, and was glad that both of them had found one another. "He's upstairs, cleaning out the study. First door on the right." He told her.

Tonks nodded and headed for the stairs. Before she got there, however, a short green blur tackled her leg, gripping on to it for dear life. "Mistress Tonks, Zeali's so glad to see you!" Zeali chirped from Tonks' leg.

"It's good to see you, too, Zeali." Tonks smiled, patting the young elf on the head. He let go of her after a few minutes, as he backed away, bowing his head slightly. "I'll see you later, okay Zeali?" Seeing Zeali nod, she spun around and skipped up the steps.

"She hasn't stopped smiling all day." Andromeda murmured, as Remus and Sirius headed towards the kitchen. "She's so happy to finally be engaged, it's incredible."

Tonks entered the study quietly, her pink eyes flashing to Harry's back immediately. She watched him use his magic to clean the room up, a small smile gracing her pretty, heart-shaped face. "Hey, Sirius, I meant to ask you, what was my parents' wedding like?" Harry asked aloud, assuming Tonks, who had just taken a few steps into the room, was his godfather. His back was still turned, so he failed to know better. "I mean will mine and Nymphie's be like theirs was? What did my father get as a wedding gift to my mother? Because I have an idea for a gift for Nymphie, but I want to know if its too extravagant? Not that it even matters on second thought, since I'll probably end up getting it for her for a made up reason like…'just because it's Wednesday', or something."

"Marrying you is more than enough of a present, Harry Potter." Tonks said, making her presence known. Harry whirled around at her voice, confusedly staring at her with his bright green eyes. "Lame come on, I know, but it had to be said." She teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Extremely lame." Harry agreed, dodging the tickling charm that she sent at him. He sidestepped another charm, inching closer to her each time he moved. Then, with a move quicker than she could counter, he tackled her onto the couch, rolling over so she was on top of him. "But I couldn't be more thrilled to have such a lame future wife." He whispered in her ear, his proximity sending chills down her spine. She leaned into him, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"Hope we're not interrupting." Sirius murmured, strolling into the room with Andromeda. "But we're just taking a tour of the house. Since, after all, it has been what, Andromeda, twenty-six years since you've last been here?"

"Just about." Andromeda shrugged, as her eyes moved over the room. She remembered being there back when she was in Hogwarts long ago. She hated it back then, but now…now there was something different about it, as if the feel of it had changed.

Tonks rolled off of Harry, allowing them to both get up. "Oh, Sirius, I found this while you were gone." Harry said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a large silver ring, bearing the Black family crest that was in a navy blue stone. "Thought you might want to look at it." He tossed the ring over to his godfather, who studied it for a few seconds, before slipping it onto his left little finger, the band fitting him perfectly. "And I was wondering if I could borrow this." Harry held up the gold locket from before, showing it to Sirius. "It spikes my curiosity for some reason."

"Its yours if you want it." Sirius shrugged, not knowing or caring what it was. The ring that Harry had given him, however, was something he wanted to keep. Not out of any loyalty to the old Black family, but for pure spite. He wanted to be able to wear it the day the Black family's image was changed. "Remus is downstairs, by the way."

The pair of Sirius and Andromeda left a few minutes later, heading down the hall to one of the bedrooms that were on the floor. Opening up the first door on the left, Sirius gave a mocking grunt. "Regulus' room, you remember?" He questioned his cousin, who nodded in response. They were hit with a gust of dust immediately, each coughing and closing their eyes. They gazed about the room, as they made their way inside, each lost in memories of the past.

Regulus Black was a man who had an aura of indifference around him his whole life. Being brought up with the Black family values, he thought of himself as more superior than muggles and muggleborns, though didn't show his arrogance in the company of other purebloods. While the other members of the family had always scowled at Sirius, being the black sheep of the lot, Regulus didn't partake in that, for that wasn't the way he worked. Instead of openly hating or loathing Sirius, he just wouldn't even notice the man's existence; however, if he was forced to notice Sirius, he wouldn't be hostile towards him, but cool and professional. Even though Regulus thought he was doing Sirius a favor, it, in fact, hurt the man even more, knowing that your brother didn't even care enough to look at you and wonder 'what if'.

The room looked just the same as it used to, with the same sense of former grandeur as the rest of the house had. It was decked out in Slytherin colors of emerald and silver, draping the bed, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest, which was a navy blue shield with two greyhounds rampant charged and a chevron, with two five-pointed stars and a short sword, was painted over the bed, along with its motto: Toujours Pur. Nestled on the nightstand was a photograph of a Hogwarts Quidditch team, all smiling and waving. Snakes emblazoned their chests, clearly showing with pride, mind you, that they were Slytherins. There was a wardrobe in the corner, and a desk was situated next to the bay window that adorned the far wall; quills, old text books, and ink bottles were scattered about on the nicked, wooden desk.

"Sirius?" A familiar voice questioned, making Sirius spin about and face the portrait that was on the wall next to the wardrobe. "It is you!" The man in the picture cried. He had long black hair, and aristocratic good looks that were akin to Sirius and Andromeda's own, even coming close to exceeding theirs. Being a little shorter than Sirius, though just as stout, with regal navy blue robes on, he looked and dressed like a Black. "I had heard rumors that you had been released from Azkaban. I'm glad to see that they were more than just rumors, my brother."

"Regulus?" Sirius said slowly, wiping the dust off of the canvas, allowing a better viewing of the portrait. "You had a picture made?"

"Yeah, a few weeks before Voldemort killed me." Regulus nodded, his eyes flicking over to the woman behind his brother. "Hello, Andromeda. You look as beautiful and magnificent as ever." She frowned at him, not understanding why he was being so polite. Noticing this, he said, "I'm sorry for the way I treated you both when I was alive. I was so indoctrinated in our family's hatred that I failed to see what really mattered. I turned my back on you both, and for that I'm truly, deeply sorry. But, I admit, I have taken certain precautions and steps to atone for my sins."

"Ha, you're just like mother. I'm surprised you're not screaming and ranting about me being a blood traitor just like she did." Sirius spat, losing himself in his feelings of the past: his pain rising inside him. "After all, that's what Death Eaters do, right?"

"I'm not a Death Eater." Regulus said softly. "I betrayed them before I died. Look, I honestly believed in their cause, but when I saw what they were willing to do to get it, I left. And, as a result, I was hunted down by them, and killed by Voldemort personally."

"So I've heard." Sirius admitted, looking up at his brother, finally realizing that Regulus had apologized. "Our dear cousin Bellatrix taunted me with the information while I was in Azkaban. Apparently, she loved the fact that she was the one who made you crack under the Cruciatius."

"You were near Bellatrix in Azkaban?" Andromeda asked, her face expressionless as she waited for Sirius to answer. She didn't know how she felt, knowing that Bellatrix was alive and as sadistic as always; on one hand, she hated it; on the other, it was her sister, and it wasn't a virtue of hers to just hate her family—even though they hated and turned their backs on her.

"Yeah," Sirius nodded, looking over to Andromeda. "Our cells were across from one another. We were two of the most guarded inmates, so we both were in each other's misery."

"I was dead a few days before you went to Azkaban." Regulus said, sadly. "But, really, Sirius, I am sorry for the way I treated you when we were children. I might not have felt it then, but I love you my brother."

"Why…why are you acting like this?" Sirius inquired, confused by the way his brother was speaking. In truth, he had always hoped Regulus would turn out okay, and it had hurt to hear that his little brother, someone who he would have protected in a natural family, had died.

"Because I know you're taking down and destroying the family portraits. And, before you destroy mine, I want you to know that I changed before I died. I admit, I'm still not thrilled with muggles, but I have changed." Regulus answered. "A wizard is a wizard, no matter how pure they are. And that…I see that now."

"You're okay." Sirius said, giving Regulus a small smile, hoping to show that he was willing to give the man a break. "I'm only destroying the ones who are raving at me like the lunatics that they are, or the ones who are too old and their canvas' are worn away."

"Thank you, brother." Regulus replied, his usually stoic features curling into a large grin. "I hope that we can talk again, and make up for all the time we were at each other's throats." Then, with his gray eyes flicking over to his cousin, he said, "Same goes for you, Andromeda."

"I'll come in here tomorrow and personally clean the room up, so we can talk then, all right?" Sirius questioned, taking a few steps towards the door. Regulus agreed, and waved as the two left the room, closing the door with a soft click.

"Hey, Sirius," Harry called out from down the hall. "I'm going to the Ministry to connect you to the Floo Network, and get you some more floo powder because I saw you were out." Tonks came up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Oh, thanks, you don't have to do that." Sirius replied, taking a few steps towards them. He noticed Andromeda tilting her head to a door at the end of the hall from the corner of his eye. _That's where she used to sleep when she would stay over_, he thought to himself, remembering those rare occurrences. "I'd have gotten around to it sooner or later."

"Don't worry about it," said Harry, waving him off. "We have to go there anyway, so it's not a big deal, honestly." Harry took Tonks' hand, and headed down the stairs. "Hey, Remus." He said, as the pair passed the werewolf, who was walking up the stairs. Once on the first floor, they apparated out and to the Ministry, intent on setting up a meeting with the Head of Magical Documentation; the person who would oversee their wedding, and make it official.

The Magical Documentation office was part of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The office handled birth certificates for wizarding children, marriage licenses and ceremonies for the magical community, death certificates and services too, and was headed by an Irish wizard named Declan Tennyson. All wizards had to get a license to be wed by the office, but most didn't have the office do the ceremonies; since about fifty percent of magical marriages were to muggles or muggleborns, they got married the muggle way. Harry and Tonks, however, were going the wizarding way, since they were both from magical parents, were both magical themselves, and their children would be pureblooded.

It took about fifteen minutes, for Harry had used some of his clout to push his way through the waiting period. Surprisingly, the Head of the Office, Declan Tennyson, said he would be the one to administer the ceremony. Usually, as with other wizards and witches, the attendants—basically the pencil pushers of the office—would be the ones to do it. Harry and Tonks both knew he was only willing to do it because it was 'the Harry Potter' but they didn't care. As long as they were married, they were happy.

They then headed over to Level Six, which held the Department of Magical Transportation, and housed the Floo Network Authority office. Harry signed the papers to hook up Grimmauld Place to the network, paid the galleon that it cost, and bought a few packets of powder in a hurry. Leaving, they flooed back to the house, and began helping Sirius clean again.

"Sirius Black, thank Merlin you're out of Azkaban." A portrait said, as the wizard entered the dark and dusty room. Sirius swished his wand, igniting the torches and candles that were scattered about, allowing light to flood into the darkened room.

"Phineas Nigellus Black." Sirius nodded to the portrait, staring at it warily.

"As the last scion of the Black family, Azkaban was no place for a wizard who has a duty to fulfill." Phineas told him, looking down at his descendent from his golden frame. His portrait was king-like as he sat in a large throne, and wore the finest of green robes money could buy; he had long black hair that was grayed in some spots, and a black goatee that framed his face.

"Duty? What is that?" Sirius mocked, smirking slightly. Even as a child, and especially as a rebellious teenager, Sirius had loved bantering with Phineas, and was amazed at how natural it felt right now. He knew deep down, completely hidden from even Phineas himself, that Phineas had a soft spot for him, and knew the old man liked the banter just as much. "I've already accomplished some of it, being that I've begun to change this house from the darkness that it was."

"So I've heard." Phineas growled, knowing that his estate wouldn't be recognizable soon enough. He didn't care if Sirius refurbished it—though he thought it was just fine the way it was—but he was worried about all of his possessions that he had bequeathed to his family upon his death. Some of them had been priceless heirlooms that had been handed down for generations. "And my picture is just fine, and I'm not ranting at you, so don't destroy it."

"I see you've been talking to Regulus." Sirius noted, laughing slightly at the indignation that his great-great-grandfather was showing. "Don't worry, you're fine. After all, you hated me as a child when this was my room," He gestured to his surroundings. Unlike Regulus' room, which advertised his family's creed, Sirius had strived to emphasize the opposite. The room was spacious and was once handsome. There was a large bed with a carved wooden headboard, a tall window obscured by golden curtains, a small desk, and a wardrobe not unlike Regulus' in the room across the hall. Where Regulus decorated with Slytherin colors and banners, Sirius decorated with the golds and reds of Gryffindor, taking pride in his differences amongst his family. Only one picture, other than Phineas', hung on the wall, and it was of four Hogwarts students standing arm in arm, laughing at the camera; on the desk, however, was a picture of a motorcycle—Sirius' flying one—that zoomed in and out of the frame.

Sirius grinned, turning his attention away from the room and back to his ancestor, continuing on. "But you hated everyone, so I know it wasn't because I was a 'blood traitor'." He watched as Phineas left his frame, muttering something about young people and their place these days. Shaking his head with laughter, he wrote a list of everything he needed to do to clean up the room and left, leaving the window open to air out the place.


	10. Black of another name

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: So yeah, now that the "Grimmauld Place arc" is over, you're going to be seeing time skips/jumps like you do in this chapter. I do this because if I didn't, this story would probably be around 50 chapters long…Right now, as it is, the story will pick up with action by chapter 15.

S/N 2: Now, as for Regulus: I had always planned for him to be a portrait in this story, because I felt it added another dimension to the story. In my view, he truly did change before he died, though, like he said, he isn't thrilled with muggles; muggleborns he's okay with, though. Don't worry, Regulus' story is nowhere near finished or done. Oh, and about the amount of galleons: yeah, I hate putting stuff like that in numbers, but it was needed so don't think too much of it.

Chapter 10: Black of another name

The next week passed by in a blur. Sirius, Harry, and Remus had almost completely finished clearing out and cleaning the first and second floor, making them livable enough for Sirius to move out of Harry's flat. They had yet to get to the third and fourth floor, which housed studies, bathrooms, and the master bedroom. Sirius' parents previously used the master bedroom, but, once cleaned, it would be Sirius' own from then on.

"And then he said," Sirius laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes. "That as the last scion of the Blacks, I should learn some proper etiquette, rather than run around eating like a dog!"

"Priceless." Regulus' rasped out between fits of giggles. His eyes flicked over to his brother and Harry, who were both laughing as well. "That Phineas, he's even madder than that wizard who went around screaming that a pixie had stolen his home. Though," He added, tapping his finger against his chin. "I don't quite think he's up to Uric the Oddball's level just yet."

"He's stark raving crazy, that's for sure." Sirius nodded in agreement, a jovial smile still lacing his face.

"Technically," Regulus said from the confiscated frame of a relative who had left to visit a few friends in another portrait he had. "You're not even the last scion of the Blacks; though, I guess he has a point in that you are in name."

"What do you mean?" Sirius questioned, looking up from his cleaning. Harry looked up, too, confused by what Regulus had meant. "I'm the last male Black after you, well, you died."

"In name alone, yes." Regulus agreed. "But, hm, in order to explain it, you'll have to see what I mean. Meet me in the study with the tapestry, I'll kick out that mermaid that's in the frame in there." Shrugging, the pair left the room as Regulus disappeared from the portrait, intent on finding out just what the dead wizard had meant. A minute later they opened up the door to the study, and paced over to the tapestry, both noticing that Regulus had squeezed into the portrait along with the mermaid. "Okay, look up to the names under Phineas…you see his children?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, pointing to the four names and one burn mark. "Sirius his son, then there's the burn mark, then there's Cygnus, then Belvina, and lastly Arcturus—Harry's great-grandfather."

"The burn mark." Regulus replied. "Is a son named Phineas who was disowned for supporting muggle rights. You see?" Regulus smiled, wondering if his brother would understand. "After being disowned, he left the family behind, but didn't just outright die. He changed his last name to Nigel, which means Black in Latin, married his wife, and had a family: one that continues to this day under the name of Nigel."

"The Nigels?" Harry muttered, knowing that name. "You mean Cepheus Nigel is related to the Blacks? Isn't that whole family good friends with the Hitchens'?" Cepheus Nigel was a popular author who wrote in Transfiguration Today, a weekly magazine about the magic of transfiguration.

"Exactly!" Regulus nodded, enthusiastically. "There are actually two different branches of the Nigels: one was started by Phineas, and the other was started by Marius. Sirius look at Cygnus' children, and you'll see another two burn holes; there's Pollux; then Cassiopeia; then a burn hole who is Marius, disowned for being a squib; then there's the burn hole of Cedrella Black, disowned for marrying the 'blood traitor' Septimus Weasley. After Marius was disowned at the tender age of nine, Phineas took him in as his own son—he was his nephew, of course, any loving person would take him in. Well, they marched over to the Ministry and changed their names with the Magical Documentation office. They, of course, changed their last name to Nigel, rather than Black. And the Hitchens," Regulus said, looking over to Harry. "Are the newer pureblood family that was started when Isla Black, a sister of Phineas Nigellus', married muggleborn Bob Hitchens and was disowned; not unlike your future mother-in-law Andromeda, Harry. You can see her burn hole on the same line that Phineas Nigellus' name is on. You know, the one to the right of his name."

"So what, Isla and Bob took in their nephew Phineas when he was disowned, who, in turn, took in Marius?" Sirius questioned, seeing how all the disowned Blacks tended to stick together. His paternal uncle, Alphard Black, had given Sirius his entire estate when Sirius decided to leave the Black family, and, having already been on Walburga's bad side for not hating muggles, he was immediately blasted off the Tapestry.

"Well, no, not quite," Regulus shook his head. "Phineas was around the same age as you were when you were disowned, so they didn't necessarily take him in. Allowed him to live with them and their children, yes, but not in the same way that Phineas took care of Marius."

"How do you know all this? I've never heard it before and I'm older than you, and, you know, still living." Sirius smiled, looking up at his brother.

"Well," Regulus replied, awkwardly. "I took the time to do some research, while the other Blacks just washed their hands clean of them. And you're right, no one else knows about them: or, at least, no Black that I know of. Maybe Andromeda knows, but I doubt it."

Meanwhile, Tonks and her mother Andromeda were working diligently on the wedding plans. They had gotten Canteen's Catering; a witch ran company, whose headquarters were in Diagon Alley that supplied gatherings with house elves that worked for them. They basically catered parties, and set up the food, tables, chairs, etc. The pair had also sent out the invitations: they invited around two hundred people of different standings. There were Harry and Tonks' friends, Ted Tonks' family (the ones who knew about magic), coworkers, bosses, quidditch teammates, and assorted dignitaries such as the Minister of Magic herself, Amelia Bones. Madam Bones, who was once Harry's direct boss, ascended to the title of Minister of Magic just a year ago, when former Minister Fudge had retired. Even though they had begun to plan the wedding—which was only three weeks away—they had still yet to see just where Harry had said it was going to be. The wizard had promised Tonks he would show it to her next weekend, a fact that she couldn't wait for.

"Colin Creevey said he'd be the photographer for free." Andromeda said, sliding into the booth that Tonks was sitting at in The Leaky Cauldron; the pair had stopped for lunch. "Said that if it's Harry Potter, he'd be willing to pay for the chance to be the photographer."

Tonks cocked an eyebrow, rolling her eyes. She remembered Harry telling her one-day about the Creevey brothers—she had only spent one year in Hogwarts with Colin (none with Dennis) and she barely remembered him—but Harry had said the boy paid more attention to him, then he did breathing. "Oh, Merlin, we'll pay, we'll pay!" She laughed, knowing that Harry wouldn't accept having him do it for free. "Too bad he's the best there is, I fear that he'll take more pictures of Harry than he will of the event itself." Andromeda smiled, but stayed silent.

"Yeah, well, Jewkes told us he'll have them ready by next month, so hopefully I won't have to bring it." Harry answered, pouring himself a glass of fire whiskey. Hermione and Viktor were hosting a small get together with friends, because Viktor was leaving for Bulgaria the next day for his team's quidditch practice. Harry had just gotten word for when the English team's practices would start, as well. He, however, wouldn't have to leave, since they lived in England—until he moved into the Potter manor with Nymphadora, that is.

"Seeker or Chaser?" Viktor questioned, sloshing his whiskey around in his snifter glass. His eyes rolled around the room, as they passed by Roger and Lisa, Cedric, Remus, Sirius, Kingsley, and Hermione and Nymphadora who were engaged in a conversation about some-odd thing.

Harry grinned, cracking his neck to the side. "Seeker, I hope. After all, someone has to give you a challenge, eh?"

"And you think that challenger vill be you?" Viktor cocked an eyebrow, a small smile on his face. "I think the Russian team is going to be a good match." Viktor noted. "That new Keeper they have, the one vho just graduated from the Longryu School of magic, is supposedly very good."

"So I've heard." Harry agreed. "I read that the Swedish Ministry finished the stadium a few days ago. We're allowed ten tickets, which is a lot compared to what Brazil offered last World Cup of only five."

"The stadium is bigger this time." Viktor replied, nodding his head. "It's even bigger than the one the British Ministry made eight years ago."

"Yeah," Harry smiled, remembering when he had first met Viktor in the semifinals that year. The two had fought against each other to the bitter end, with Viktor coming out on top slightly. "You know I'm going to beat you this time, right?"

"I'd like to see you try." Viktor mocked, staring Harry down playfully. They're eyes fought for a few seconds, before both bursted out in laughter. They were too good of friends to allow a stupid quidditch game, albeit one for the pride of their respective countries, to get in their way. As the night died down, Harry and Viktor embraced each other like the brothers they thought of themselves as. "I'll make sure to be here back in England early enough for your stag party, vhich is the night before the rehearsal dinner."

"Yeah, Cedric said it's that Thursday night." Harry shrugged, not knowing what they had planned. He hoped they wouldn't force him to do anything too embarrassing. "I'll be seeing you, buddy." Harry said, before throwing down some floo powder and flooing home.

Waking up the next morning, Harry rolled out of bed, jumped into the shower and got dressed, then headed to the Leaky Cauldron, where he was meeting Sirius for a quick breakfast. The meal was a quiet one, each too tired to put together a sentence. Paying their bill, the pair headed into Diagon Alley, walking past all the wonderful and magnificent shops, heading towards one building in particular. A bell from above the door rang, as the two entered. "Harry!" A bubbly witch said from behind a desk.

"Hey, Patricia." Harry smiled at the woman, knowing her from their days at Hogwarts. Patricia Stimpson was a Gryffindor a year above Harry, and a friend of Fred and George Weasley. She was an okay witch, but being from a muggle family, she was a perfect assistant for when it came to wizarding clients of Cedric's who needed to venture out in the muggle world. Plus, she was a hard worker who definitely earned her above average salary. "I didn't expect you to be here. Aren't you usually off on the weekends?"

"Yeah," Patricia nodded happily. "But Terrence has a meeting with a client this morning, so he asked me to come in." Terrence Higgs was Cedric's business partner, and co-owner of their barrister office. He was two years older than Cedric (the same age as Tonks, though she was a Hogwarts year behind), and was a Slytherin when he attended Hogwarts. Being the son of a notable pureblood Ministry Official, Bertie Higgs, he had considerable clout around the wizarding world, which helped Cedric and his work immensely.

"Is Cedric in his office?" Harry questioned, heading towards Cedric's door. Seeing Patricia nod a yes, he smiled at her and waved, knocking softly on Cedric's door before entering. "Ceddy boy."

"Potty Wotty." Cedric replied distractedly, as he threw away a few pieces of paper. Spinning around in his chair to face Harry and Sirius, he gestured for them to take the two seats across from him. "Sirius, we're going to have to come up with a name for you."

"Definitely." Harry agreed, cocking an eyebrow at his godfather. "Sirius is a good name and all, but…it just doesn't end with a y." He put his finger up to his chin, pretending as if it were a great dilemma that needed solving. "Let's see, working off your nickname from my father's time, we could call you Paddy. Although, being British, you might not like the Irish connotations."

Sirius laughed, rolling his eyes. "You guys are the strangest group of wizards I have ever seen."

"So then, since you had no objections, Paddy it is." Cedric muttered, writing something down on his desk. "That is a binding verbal contract, just so you know." He flashed Sirius a grin, laughing as the man shook his head in amusement. "Anyway, we have good and bad news, Harry. The good news is that I've pushed through the paperwork for the building, so we're ready to go. The bad news is, however, that she wants, after converting it from muggle pounds, one hundred and two thousand galleons. Divide that by two, and we're looking at fifty-one thousand galleons a piece."

"Divide it by three." Harry corrected, pointing to Sirius. "He wants in, too."

"Divided by three…" Cedric said, punching in a few numbers. His face lost its gloom as he looked up at the pair. "Thirty-four thousand galleons even."

"Oof." Harry murmured, cringing. He closed his eyes, calculating the money in his Gringotts vaults. It was a large some of money, that was for certain, but it wasn't insurmountable. He had two vaults in Gringotts: one was the vault his parents set up for him, which he used for day-to-day money (his Hit Wizarding galleons went to this vault); the other was a purely business vault, where most of his gold earnings from the various businesses was stored.

"Can you afford it?" Sirius asked, uneasily, watching as Harry thought about it with his eyes closed. "Because, if you can't, I mean I don't want to step on your toes, but I could loan you…"

Harry nodded, and looked up. "What? Oh, yeah, I can, I was just seeing if I would have to tap into my Potter vault, rather than just my business vault." He cocked an eyebrow at Sirius when he registered what the man had said. "Loan me? You can afford it as well, I presume?" Sirius nodded, his eyes flicking over to Cedric.

"So we're all game, then?" Cedric questioned. Harry and Sirius both agreed, which made Cedric write a few words on a contract, and push it off to the side of his desk. "Now, since all the tenants are wizards, I was thinking we could charge them twenty-five galleons as the monthly rate. I'm pretty sure all of them are ministry workers, so they can afford it."

"Sounds reasonable." Harry noted, knowing that single ministry workers could afford it. Most ministry workers made over a hundred galleons a month, with the more dangerous and prestigious jobs—like Aurors, Department Heads, and Hitwizards—making close to a thousand galleons a month. After all, the starting salary for Hit Wizards was seven hundred galleons a month.

"Good." Cedric whispered, taking a quill and signing the bottom of a contract. He placed all the paper work that was in front of him off to the side; he leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk with his hands behind his head. "Did you see this week's issue of Witch Weekly? I got the first one off the stand when I was coming into the office today."

"No," Harry shook his head. "Why? What's it say?" Cedric grinned, reaching into his bag and taking out the magazine. Tossing it over to Harry, he watched as the man rolled his eyes once he saw the cover. It was of Harry on his broomstick, flying towards the reader, stopping on a dime and levitating in midair, flashing the reader—mostly teenage girls, and middle-aged women—a dazzling, confident smile, before zooming off on his broom. The action repeated itself over and over, as if it were on a never-ending loop, which, as a matter of fact, it was. Turning to the page with the story about Harry being a married man, he grimaced as he began to read it.

**Bachelor no more?**

_Witch Weekly is sorry to say that Harry Potter, Britain's number one most eligible bachelor on our list, is no longer a bachelor. The famous wizard plans to marry long time girlfriend Nymphadora Tonks within the month. This star-studded affair will host prominent wizards from around the country, including the Minster of Magic herself. Potter's best man, we have heard, will be none other than former Tri-Wizard cup champion, and number nine on our list of eligible wizards this past year, Cedric Diggory. Nymphadora Tonks, a petite Auror, is descended from the Black family through her mother. She is, ironically, a cousin of recently freed Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather. Harry, twenty-one, met Nymphadora, twenty-six, after the English win in the championship match of the 1998 Quidditch World Cup. _

He closed the magazine quickly, passing it over to Sirius to read. "So, since I'm not an 'eligible bachelor' anymore, I guess that means you're number eight, huh?" Harry laughed at Cedric. Cedric threw a crumpled piece of paper at him, hitting him square in the face. Harry laughed, and flicked his wand out, sending the paper straight back at him. "Shall we go get the gold transferred, then?"

Later that night, Sirius was in one of the libraries in Grimmauld Place. He had a quill in his hand, a piece of parchment in front of him, and a bottle of ink placed on the desk he was sitting at. Regulus was watching him from the portrait of the mermaid, cocking an eyebrow down at his brother. Finally, after a few minutes, Sirius looked up, smiling. He paced over to the window, where an eagle owl was waiting, hooting every so often. Latching the rolled up parchment onto the owl's leg, Sirius followed the owl with his eyes as the bird flew off, delivering the message the man had just written. "Think they'll answer?" Sirius questioned, turning around.

Regulus shrugged, not really knowing. "Maybe." He said after a moment's silence.


	11. Dinner and a home

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: The Nigels, other than Lucida, aren't important to the story: I'm simply using them as a way to relate information to you readers, and to show that Harry and Sirius have family, that they're not alone. As for Lucida, she's just a baby, so you won't see her importance till later…much, much later: like epilogue later.

S/N 2: So yeah, two more chapters until you have juicy wedding goodness! The next chapter is Godric's Hollow centered, so be ready for that! _By the way, Freyjavangr means Freyja's plain: Freyja being the goddess of magic in Norse mythology. _

Chapter 11: Dinner and a home

Again the rest of the week passed by in a blur. Sirius had cleaned up the third floor of Grimmauld place, needing only to clean the fourth floor and the attic to finish it off. He had yet to re-outfit the first two floors, however, so he wasn't completely done just yet. Plus, he had to buy all new furniture for the basement dinning room, which he hadn't even began to think about yet.

There was a tapping on his window as he rolled over in his bed; he swung his legs over the edge, and threw open the window, allowing the owl passage into the room. He took the parchment from the owl's leg, and watched it fly away, either not wanting or needing an owl treat. He grabbed his wand off of the bedside table, and alit the tip with a lumos spell, then ran his eyes over the letter.

_Dear Mr. Black,_

_First of all, I would like to say sorry for all the Azkaban trouble that you were put through, and my family and I were touched when we saw that you had contacted us. As for your message, I think that would be great, meeting with you and Andromeda. My cousin, Austrinus, would love to come, and perhaps you two (and your families) could come and visit our family, the Nigels. Next Sunday would be grand. _

_Till Sunday,_

_Cepheus Nigel._

Sirius smiled, knowing that his mother would absolutely loathe the fact that two people, who hailed from disowned Blacks, would be entering her house: she would surely think of them as blood traitors. But, alas, his mother was gone from both this house and this world, he was in charge now.

Andromeda and Nymphadora had finished up the wedding plans, and all that was left was for Nymphadora to get her dress. She couldn't decide just what she wanted, either a muggle wedding dress, or witch's wedding robes. She had made an appointment at 'Gladrag's' a week before the wedding was to take place; which was only two weeks away from the day. All that was left for Tonks and the wedding was for Harry to show her just where the wedding was to take place. He told her it was perfect, and she believed him, but still wanted to see just where it was. Harry had promised her that he would take her to it the Saturday two weeks before their wedding, which was a promise she couldn't help but be giddy over.

"Nymphie?" Harry called out, knocking on her apartment door. He waited patiently as she got ready; hearing someone stumble behind the door, he couldn't help but smile. _That's my Nymphadora_, he thought to himself. She threw open the door, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. Surprisingly, she was in her natural form: creamy white complexion, heart-shaped face, long brown hair, and beautiful almond shaped blue-gray eyes. "Ready?" He questioned, taking a few steps into the room, and closing the door behind him. She nodded up at him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissing her, he apparated them out of the apartment, and to a dirt path in the middle of nowhere.

"Ah, is this where you meant to go?" She asked, gazing around her surroundings. On one side of the path was a wooded forest; on the other were a few trees that ran along a cliff. In the distance she could hear waves crashing down on some rocks, and if she stared past the tree line, she could see the ocean: the sun's golden beams were bouncing off of the blue water.

"Yup," Harry chirped, taking her left hand and entwining it within his right. He started to walk down the path, tugging her arm lightly. His eyes shifted over to her, as he grinned at how beautiful she looked. She was wearing a white and pink sundress, which accentuated her curves and physique, with white flip-flops, that flopped against her feet every time she took a step. "See the gate?" He questioned, gesturing to the metal gate that was fifty feet in front of them.

Tonks squinted her eyes, trying to get a better look at it. It was a simple metal gate that had cursive golden 'P' atop a shield in the place a key would go into. On each side of the gate were two seven-foot tall pillars that each housed a stone statue. On the right pillar was a stag, standing tall and proud, as if he were watching over his pack. On the left pillar was tiger, laying on all fours, watching the horizon, as if he were a sentinel guarding a king. On each side of the gate was a brick wall that carried to the tree line, and, presumably, past it, though Tonks couldn't see. "Is this…?" She asked, her jaw halfway open. Her stomach twisted into a knot, as both hope and dread rose within her. As they neared the gate, she could see the extensive grounds behind it for the first time.

"I hope you like it." Harry whispered in her ear, untangling their fingers and reaching towards the gate. He placed his hand on the P shield, and grinned as it glowed blue, and the gate opened slowly. "The Potter manor." He said, bowing and gesturing to the grounds, as if he was a herald introducing a nobleman.

"Don't tell me," Tonks gasped, taking a few steps into the manor grounds, and spinning around to see the whole picture. "You built this? This is what your 'project' was?" She followed the cobblestone pathway up to the front of the house, marveling at her surroundings.

Harry laughed, nodding his head. "I've been working on this since the day I left Hogwarts." He smiled as Tonks' eyes met the house that he had built. She stood still for a few moments, gazing upon the façade that was so beautiful to her.

The manor, which was built in the Georgian style reminiscent to notable buildings such as the Leinster House of Ireland and the White House of America, was constructed with a beige stone, almost tan. It was three floors tall, and twelve windows across—five feet per window, with five feet in between each. A few balconies were scattered about, as they hung over the side of the brown building. The doors were French, and white of color. The front door was a large oak double door that had a golden knocker, shaped like a Tiger's head.

"This is beautiful!" Tonks chirped, running towards the front door. Harry laughed, and jogged behind her, knowing that she would love the inside even more.

And she did, for it had hardwood floors throughout the first two floors, lavish furnishings, and earthly tones of greens, dark blues, and bronze. There were a grand total of six bedrooms (a master, a guest, and four smaller rooms), six baths, two studies, a sitting room, a living room, a family room, a dining room, and a kitchen; plus, there were a few hidden rooms scattered about—Harry's specialty. The basement was complete, albeit empty. The third floor, to her surprise, was charmed to be an indoor quidditch pitch; the ceiling was akin to the Hogwarts' grand hall, with it showing the sky. The floor was charmed to feel and look like grass as well, adding to the effect of it being a real quidditch pitch.

It came as no surprise to Tonks, however, that the charm work throughout the house was fascinating, as it was Harry's best subject. The master bedroom had walls that were charmed to show the outside as if it were completely made of glass, even though from the outside they showed the stone they were constructed of. The house was decked out with all of the muggle amenities, but they were tweaked to wizarding specifications, however. Everything was perfect in Tonks' mind.

They then went out the back door, intent on touring around the grounds. She noticed that, other than a few scattered trees, it wasn't the wooded area she had thought it was going to be. A fence-like ring of trees on the outskirts of the property, which was big enough to house a few quidditch pitches, kept their privacy. There was a brick oven/barbeque in the back yard, with tables set up around it, making it a perfect spot to cook outdoors like muggles did during the summer. The best part about the property in Tonks' mind, however, were the cliffs that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean on the west side of it. She ran over to them, stopping a few feet away to take a look down. She smiled as she saw a beach, with a set of stairs leading down to it; the cliff was only about thirty feet up, but it was still high enough to get hurt if you fell.

"Where are we?" She asked, as she waited impatiently for Harry to catch up to her so she could skip down the stairs to the beach. She tapped her left foot on the grass, aching to go down and check out the beach.

"Gwynedd, Wales. Lleyn Peninsula, specifically." Harry said, turning her around and pointing her to the water that was below the cliff. "That's the Cardigan Bay." He pointed to a group of mountains in the distance; they were no farther away than a couple of miles. "Those are the Rivals; or, in Welsh, Yr Eifl. They host a reservation for Common Welsh Green dragons. On the other side of them is Godric's Hollow, the place my family lived." He pointed to another mountain range; this one was a little father away, but just as big. "That's Snowdon."

"Wales, hm?" Tonks smiled, looking up at him. He always did say that he was going to live in Wales sooner or later. Grabbing his hand, she ran down the wooden steps, pulling him behind her. She jumped off the final platform, landing on the beach. She took off her flip-flops, and allowed the golden sand to engulf her feet and toes. She threw her arms out, loving the feeling of the shore breeze rolling over her skin. She flicked her eyes over to Harry, grinning to him seductively. "Is this a private beach?" Tonks asked suggestively.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, as a small smile played at his lips. "Private enough." He replied, biting his lip. His eyes ran over Tonks' body as the woman slid her dress straps over her shoulders, and allowed it fall down to her feet. She stepped out of it, and kicked it over to Harry, who caught it, and watched as she ran into the ocean. Grinning, he followed suit and disrobed himself, and dove into the ocean as well.

An hour later, Zeali appeared on the beach with a pop. "Master Harry, sir, your lunch is ready!" He called out, his voice loud and squeaky, and barely carried over the crashing of the waves.

"Ah," Tonks screeched, hiding behind Harry, hoping the little elf didn't see her naked body.

"He's a house elf, Nymphie." Harry laughed, his eyes shifting over to hers. "I doubt he's the least bit interested in being a peeping tom." He waved to the elf, and said in a louder voice, "Okay, Zeali, we'll be right up, thank you." The elf smiled and disappeared with a pop.

After drying off, and putting their clothes back on, the pair headed back up to the house, their stomachs growling. They didn't realize they were hungry before Zeali told them he had made lunch, but now they couldn't wait to eat. As they neared the house, Harry's eyes flicked over to Tonks, who had a strange look on her face: it was pensive. "What?" She questioned, noticing his lingering gaze.

"You like it, right?" He asked, a hint of worry in his voice. He loved the house and couldn't ask for anything more, but if she didn't like it, then what were they to do?

"The house? Our home?" Tonks replied, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? I love it!" She chirped, kissing him on the cheek. "A beach front house," She looked over at the cliffs that ran perpendicular to the house. If you were to walk out of the main door, the cliffs would be on your right, and continue to the end of the property. If you walked onto the grounds from the main gate, however, they would be to your left; though, the gate was a little off to the right and caddy corner from the main door of the house. "Well, beachside property is something that you just can't not like." She giggled. "How much did it cost you?"

"A lot." Harry answered, uncomfortably. She wouldn't want the house if she knew just how much it had cost him. "Let's just say that when we first met, my bank vault was empty. That's why I did those advertisements for Witch Weekly and Quidditch Monthly; they paid well." He bit his lip, before continuing. "It was the land that cost the most, though, since muggles usually charge more. Zeali and I did most of the work, although I had 'Cresswell Wizarding Construction' come in and build the actual structure; it's amazing how Dirk Cresswell's brother was able to get goblins to work for him. Goblins are amazing constructors, you know?"

"Cresswell? He works in the Goblin Liason office, right?" She asked, as Zeali directed her to the patio area in the back yard where he had set up their lunch. "I thought he was a muggleborn?"

"He is," Harry nodded, taking a seat. "But his younger brother is also a wizard, which leads me to believe…"

"Squibs?" Tonks finished for him, knowing his train of thought. It was very rare for a family of muggles to have more than one wizard or witch. And most of time, if it ever did happen, it was because the family was actually descended from a squib, and they just forgot about the magical community. Seeing Harry agree, she changed the subject. "I have to tell Canteen's where this place is."

"No, you don't." Harry told her, taking a bite out of his food. "They've always known. I went and told them where it was going to be an hour after you left them. I just told them not to tell you they knew, so it would be a secret." He grinned when Tonks slapped his arm playfully, sticking his tongue out at her. Even though their wedding was two weeks away, the couple was already acting as if they were married, and both agreed that if marriage was like this, they couldn't wait.

Sunday night came around, and Harry and Ted were lounging around in the sitting room of Grimmauld place; Nymphadora, Andromeda, and Sirius were all waiting at the door, glancing at the clock every so often. Then, as expected, there was a chime throughout the house, coming from the front door: it was a clever little charm that acted as a muggle doorbell. All a visitor had to do was press his wand up to the black door, and a ring will sound out, alerting the owner of their presence. Sirius strolled across the hall, reaching for the door and opening it slowly.

Two men stood on the other side, each dressed in elegant robes. The one known as Cepheus was a medium-height man, with short black hair, gray eyes, and the same aristocratic good looks that the Blacks were known for. Austrinus was a tall and thick man, with gray eyes, and dark brown hair. Though he had a few layers of fat, you could see that Austrinus was a man that would be hard to beat in a physical strength match—being comparable in height to Harry and Dumbledore, but having much more girth. "Sirius Black?" Cepheus questioned, putting his hand out to Sirius.

"Cepheus, I presume?" Sirius replied, shaking the hand. His eyes then flicked over to Austrinus, who gave a small grin. "And you must be Austrinus."

"Must be." Austrinus responded, shrugging. Both men looked relatively young, younger than Sirius, and around the age of thirty: they were closer to Nymphadora than to Sirius in age. Sirius moved to the side, allowing them room to enter his home, which they promptly did. "Hello all." Austrinus said, seeing Harry, Ted, Andromeda, and Nymphadora a few feet away. Andromeda and Nymphadora went to meet Austrinus, while Harry lagged behind; Cepheus noticed him and walked towards him after a second.

"Harry Potter," Cepheus said, staring Harry straight in the eyes. "It's good to finally meet you." He flashed the younger wizard a small, mischievous grin. "I read the Witch Weekly report. Getting married, I hear."

"Mr. Nigel," Harry said, smiling slightly. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Please, please, call me Cepheus." Cepheus interrupted, gripping Harry's shoulder. Cocking an eyebrow, he gestured for Harry to continue.

"You heard right, Cepheus." Harry replied, gesturing to Nymphadora, who was talking animatedly to Austrinus. Cepheus followed with his eyes, seeing Nymphadora for the first time. "A little under two weeks."

"Good, good." Cepheus said, nodding his head amusedly. After the introductions were finished and the greetings were said, they all headed down to the dinning room, where Dobby had a multi-course meal laid out on a fine, golden tablecloth. "So tell me," Cepheus began, putting down his salad fork and looking towards Harry and Nymphadora. "How did you two meet, if you don't mind me asking."

The pair relayed the events that lead up to their kismet-like meeting; how Tonks had tripped over Harry, and Harry had given her his jersey. Then, having finished, Harry changed the subject by asking, "How come the Nigels haven't been in Hogwarts? I've never heard that name go through there."

"Well," Cepheus said, furrowing his brow. "Phineas Nigel sent his children to Beauxbatons, not wanting the Black family to get to them, and Marius followed suit and sent his there, as well. Though, there have been a few of us who have gone to either Durmstrang or Freyjavangr—the Norse school of Magic. No Nigel, however, has ever gone to Hogwarts"

"Yes, but I think Peleus said that Emese wanted to send Lucida to Hogwarts." Austrinus said, looking over to Cepheus.

"She does?" Cepheus questioned, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Then, looking at the curious group, he said, "Peleus is Austrinus' brother, Emese being his wife. Lucida is their beautiful little girl that is just a few months old." He said, filling them in on what the pair was talking about.

"Same age as Harmony." Harry smiled, remembering his best friend's daughter. She had been born around the time of Hermione and Viktor's wedding, a few weeks after. "Any reason why Emese wants Lucida to go to Hogwarts and not Beauxbatons?"

"Durmstrang, actually." Austrinus corrected. "She wants our family, the Nigels, to expand their horizons, rather than stay in our own little corner. She thinks we've been afraid to become a prominent family for far too long, and by going to Hogwarts, Lucida will show her true potential."

"And she has such great potential." Cepheus shivered. "I've seen…I've felt it."

"I never knew pureblood families sent their children to different schools." Ted muttered, pushing his food around on his plate with his fork, disinterestedly. "I guess I always just assumed Hogwarts was the go-to place."

"There have been people who even leave the school that they were at to transfer into another, too." Cepheus said. "Some parents are from different countries, from different schools, so they decide that one child will go to one school, while the other goes to another. Whether it be one of the big three like Hogwarts, Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons, or the smaller ones that are located all across Europe."

The group all nodded, appreciating the conversation for what it was: easy. "So just how many Nigels are there?" Sirius questioned in wonder, after a moment's silence.

Austrinus and Cepheus shared a look, each counting up the number in their minds. "Thirty, maybe?"

"Yeah," Austrinus added. "We're a pretty big family, we have a lot of males in our line. Marius, our great-great-grandfather had five children himself, and Phineas had six—seven if you consider his adoption of Marius."

"A lot more of you than there are of Blacks." Andromeda said, almost grimly. Sirius was, technically speaking, the last Black, and the line would die out if he didn't have any children.

The rest of the night went without a problem. The conversation was light and fun, and the cookies, pastries, and strudels were never-ending. Before anyone knew it, the clock had chimed midnight, surprising everyone in the room. Austrinus and Cepheus both left a few moments after that, promising to send an invite for dinner in a few weeks, after the wedding craze had died down. It wasn't long before Sirius, being the only person in the house, turned off the lights and went to sleep, losing himself in the dream world.

The next Saturday, which was a week till the wedding, found Harry, Remus, and Sirius walking down the dirt path that would lead to the Potter manor. The path seemed to be abandoned, for Tonks and Harry's footprints remained from a week ago. It was, in truth, a forgotten area because the main road that led to the path had stopped being used over ten years ago. "Nice touch on the statues." Sirius noted, looking at the stag and the tiger that guarded the gate.

"It's all about the little things in life, my friends." Harry laughed, placing his hand on the 'P' shield, and opening the gates up. Remus whistled when the grounds and the house came into view. The house was visible from outside the gates, but the majesty of it came when you got inside the grounds. It wasn't the biggest house in the wizarding world—it was just a little bigger than number twelve, Grimmauld Place—but it was definitely something to brag about. "Welcome." Harry gestured to the house.

"Your father would be jealous." Sirius grinned, as his eyes roamed around everything: from the lawn that led up to the house, to the tree line that protected their privacy, to the cliffs that showed a beautiful view of the ocean.

"And very proud." Remus added, not wanting Harry to think his father was that materialistic. They took a few steps forward, but stopped as Harry put his hand out.

"Race you to the cliffs?" He questioned Sirius, cocking an eyebrow. Sirius smiled and, with a pop, transformed into a big, black dog. The dog tilted his head up at Harry and took off, leaving Harry behind. Harry transformed into a white Bengal tiger and sprinted towards the cliffs, catching up to the dog within seconds. Just as Harry was about to pass Sirius, the dog nudged the tiger, knocking him off course, which allowed him to jump in front, skidding to a halt as he neared the cliffs. "Cheater." Harry muttered, transforming back into a human.


	12. The dress and the graves

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: So the next two chapters are lush with wedding stuff: the parties before the wedding and the wedding itself—there will be, of course, major "Honks" scenes so don't fret. _Oh, and as fair warning, the names that I drop do mean something…so pay attention to that, especially in the next chapter._

S/N 2: I took a few liberties with Godric's Hollow, what with making it in Wales, but its basically the same as it is in the book—plus, the sign is different, and where the graves are located is different as well.

Chapter 12: The dress and the graves

Meanwhile, Tonks twirled in front of a mirror as she studied the white dress that garnished her form. It was an elegant muggle dress that Gladrag's had had in the back room. They didn't get much call for muggle clothes, as most witches and wizards wanted robes and other magical garments, but they did have some in stock for special occasions; weddings being the main case. She ran a hand over the front of them, biting her lip slightly.

"Oh, Tonks, you look beautiful!" Hermione chirped, sitting on a chair behind the woman. Andromeda and Lisa nodded their heads in agreement, being right next to Hermione. Her other bridesmaids, and there were three more, couldn't make it, so it was up to Lisa and Hermione to handle it.

"I don't know." She whispered, spinning around to see the backside. "I don't know if I like the whole muggle look when Harry will be wearing robes, you know?"

"He is?" Lisa asked, furrowing her eyebrow. Admittedly, Tonks and her were friends through Harry and Hermione—Hermione being Lisa's best friend—but they knew and liked each other well enough that Tonks had asked her to be a bridesmaid.

"Well," Tonks replied, shrugging; her eyes flicked over to Lisa, leaving the full-sized mirror for a few moments. "He's going half and half, actually. He said he was going to be wearing a normal muggle tuxedo, but instead of a jacket, he's going to be wearing a robe. And, plus, you guys are wearing robes, so I don't want to seem out of place."

"This is your wedding, honey." Andromeda smiled, remembering what her wedding was like. Being that she was disowned from the family, it was a small affair, with only Ted, her, and a few friends; not a single member of the family had been invited. Even still, she had put her heart and soul into that wedding, shopping around with whatever money she had to make it perfect. "You can do whatever you want to do."

"I know." Tonks sighed, going behind the screen that was in the room, and changing into another set of robes. "But I want it to be perfect." She called out.

"And it will, honey," Andromeda soothed from her chair a few feet away from the screen. "But if you want to do something, then you should do it. It's your day." Her daughter went silent for a moment, as she changed into white wedding robes. "How do they look?" Andromeda asked, wondering why Tonks had gone quiet.

"I…I don't know." Tonks replied, taking a step to the right of the screen so the girls could get a view of her. Once they did, to her great surprise, they let out a collective gasp—their hands rising to their mouths. "What?" She questioned, confusedly.

"Tonks, you look…gorgeous." Lisa whispered, smiling brightly. She had never seen the Auror, who prided herself on originality, look so beautiful and womanly: it suited her.

Tonks looked in the mirror, silently agreeing with Lisa. It was a floaty, off the shoulder, jeweled halter-neck-like robe, made from the whitest silk. The fastenings were made from a white gold, with ruche sleeves, and it carried a long, white train, that ran for about five feet. With snaking arm clasps and bare shoulders, it hugged her physique nicely, showing off her curves and womanly figure. All in all, it was a perfect mix of wizarding fashion and muggle tradition.

"This is it." Tonks said softly, marveling at herself in the mirror. Even with her spiky, bubble-gum pink hair style, she could tell that the robes she had on were the ones she would wear at her wedding. "Harry is going to ogle me at the altar."

"Harry ogles you no matter what you wear." Hermione laughed. "But you look beautiful, Tonks."

"Yup," Tonks nodded, continuing to stare at herself in the mirror. Her eyes ran down the robes, admiring it with her intense gaze. "This is definitely the one."

As if by magic, the clerk who had shown the women into the room came walking in, a cheerful smile lacing her aged face. "Ah, Ms. Tonks, that is a splendid choice." She swished her wand, and a large brown leather bag came flying into the room, hanging itself up on the hook that was in the corner. "Now, as you know, those are self-ironing and cleaning robes. And we offer complimentary fitting charm work, so if you want it changed in any way, just come back here and we'll do it for you."

"Thank you." Tonks said, going behind the screen and changing back into the clothes that she wore when she came into the shop. She handed the robes to the witch, who promptly placed them safely in the bag, making sure as to not damage them in anyway. The aged witch flashed them a smile, before turning and walking back out to the main room of Gladrag's, carrying the leather bag.

"Do you know if you're going to take on your natural form or…?" Hermione questioned, as Tonks strolled over to the group, a dreamy look on her face. Hermione's eyes flicked up the Tonks' pink hair, quizzically cocking an eyebrow.

"I think I will." Tonks shrugged, not having discussed it with Harry yet. Though she loved being original, trying new hairstyles and eye colors, weddings were special. She knew, though he wouldn't say it, that Harry wanted her to be in her natural form, the one that he loved so intensely and intimately—that's not to say he didn't love her no matter what she looked like.

"Oh, goody!" Lisa chirped, wrapping an arm around Tonks. "I've never seen you in your natural form. Except for that five seconds when I walked in on you and Harry…" She paused, her eyes slowly moving over to Andromeda. "Playing chess. Yeah, when I walked in on you playing chess." She finished quickly, smiling embarrassedly.

"Smooth." Tonks muttered jokingly, as she walked out of the room. Lisa looked at Andromeda, nervously biting her lip. Andromeda just shook her head as a small smile played on her face, then turned around and followed her daughter out of the room.

Harry, Sirius, and Remus trudged down the dirt path until they were past the anti-apparition wards that were around the Potter manor. Once they reached a safe place to apparate from, they all did, leaving the area with a soft pop. The trio appeared not a few miles away, in front of an abandoned lot that held two gravestones in the middle, with a dilapidated cottage in the background. The front door was knocked off of its hinges and the right part of the cottage's roof was blown apart, clearly where Voldemort's spell had backfired. Harry flicked his ebony wand, conjuring up two red roses. Walking towards the headstones slowly, the wizard took a deep breath as emotions began to stir inside; love, anger, sadness, everything.

Remus and Sirius hung back a little, allowing the younger wizard his space. Remus had come to this place twice before, but memories of his friends overcame him to the point of not being able to take it anymore so he was forced to leave. Sirius, however, had never been there for his time in Azkaban had prevented it. He didn't know how he would react, seeing the name of his best friend on a gravestone, but he knew he had to come. He knew that, for all his worries, his best friend deserved it. They watched as Harry ran a tender hand over the stone to the left, clearly marked with the name Lily Potter.

"Do you think they would have liked her?" Harry questioned softly, placing the two roses down in front of their respective stones. "Nymphadora, I mean. Do you think they would have liked her and would have loved her enough to accept her as my wife?"

"They would have been happy with whoever you picked, kid. Just as long as she made you happy and content, and loved you with as much passion as they shared with each other." Sirius replied, holding in the tears that were about to fall as his eyes met with James' stone. Here he was, twenty years after James' death, visiting his burial plot for the first time. What kind of friend was he? To allow himself to be thrown into prison, and let his godson be raised by muggles who hated him?

"Which is clearly what you and Tonks have, Harry." Remus added, wiping his eyes, unashamed of the tears that had accumulated in them. "Every time she looks at you, it's as if it's Christmas for her. How could a parent not want that for their child? Plus, even if you and Tonks weren't together, they'd like the person that she is."

"I wish they could have met her." Harry whispered, kissing his fingers and placing them on his mother's name. Rising to his feet, he took a step back and stared down at the gravestones, thinking about what his life could've been. Even so, if he could go back and change that fateful night, he wouldn't for fear of Voldemort gaining even more power, and enslaving the world; plus, if he would even change one miniscule detail, he ran the chance of never meeting Nymphadora, and that was something he wouldn't risk.

Harry turned around, allowing Sirius a private moment next to his father's grave. His eyes flicked around Godric's Hollow, wondering just what had happened to this once peaceful wizarding community. It was at its peak a hundred years ago or so, but wizards and witches still lived here until Voldemort's attack. Now, twenty years after that night, wizarding folk still refused to return, making the town that was the birthing place of and named after Godric Gryffindor, one of the greatest wizards to ever live, an all but abandoned one. That wasn't to say the village was empty, no, for Bathilda Bagshot, Hannah Abbott, the Ropers, and even Albus Dumbledore—during his annual summer retreat—still resided there.

Down the lane, in the far distance, he could see the war monument that was located in the center of town, directly across from the small chapel. Behind the chapel was a cemetery, which held most of the Potter family and other notable people on its hallowed ground. Harry had gone there a few times, circling around the gravestones, looking for some familiar names. He had seen Dorea and Charlus Potter once, but didn't think much of it, having not known that they were his grandparent's at the time. There were a great deal of magical families buried there, like the Abbotts, Bagshots, and even some Dumbledores.

The center of town also housed a pub, a post office, and a couple of other little shops, mainly a bodega that acted as the source of the town's food supply. Past the town center was another row of houses, small and compact, though built nicely; then came the countryside, which consisted of moors, lawns, and meadows; on the other side were the mountains that divided Godric's Hollow with the Potter manor. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head and grinned at Sirius, whom had his back turned to the grave as well, leaving Remus alone.

"James would have been proud of you." Sirius said solemnly, as he stared out at the horizon. It was around two o'clock, and the sun created shadows from the trees high above that made it as if it was dark outside. "And of course your mother would have been, too. I'm amazed at the life you made for yourself, Harry. I just wish I could have been there to see you make it."

Harry gave out a low laugh, one that was filled with both happiness and sadness, while shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, well, at least you're going to be there for my marriage. Plus, you'll get to see me in the World Cup, so there are things that you haven't missed, you know." He gestured to the land around them, as a gentle breeze ruffled through the air. "I haven't been here in three years. I guess it's because Remus, Hagrid, and Dumbledore are the only ones who could come with me and see it, that's why I didn't even bother. It's hard to believe that this piece of land is still under the Fidelius charm."

"I remember the day Peter told you where your own house was—we had given Dumbledore, Hagrid, and Remus a piece of paper with the secret on it, to keep with the charade that I was the secret keeper. But he told the secret to you personally, since you couldn't read." Sirius said, thinking back to that day. Even with Peter in it, he still found it as a fond memory, for it had Harry and James in it. "We didn't know if it would work because you were so young, we didn't think you'd be able to comprehend it. But, to our great surprise, your mother took you outside one day, and you pointed up at your house and said 'hos'." He laughed, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye. "And to this day we still have no idea what hos means." He added, as Remus walked over to the pair.

"I see my linguistic skills were second to none, even as a child, eh?" Harry smirked, biting his fingernails and polishing them off on his blue sweatshirt. "Here, Sirius, I think you should see something." He said, heading towards the gate that led up to the property.

"What is it?" Sirius questioned, following his godson. Harry stopped in front of the gate, and gestured down to it. Sirius cocked an eyebrow at it, and tentatively reached out to it, touching the metal gently. Immediately, a large, wooden sign sprang to life from the gate, its black lettering spelling out a small passage for him to read.

_**On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the killing curse. This plot of land, invisible to all but a few, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family. **_

Underneath the neat writing, was a sheet of parchment that had the signatures of all different witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped death. The first one, Sirius noted, was signed by Frank Longbottom and said: "Thank you, Harry Potter, for saving my family since You-Know-Who was coming after us next. I'm sorry for the loss of your parents, but please know that what you did will save hundreds. They will always live on in our memories." The rest were just names, and some left a few words here and there, but for the most part, people just left their signatures.

He looked up at Harry, giving the young man a small, sad smile. "That was nice." He said, after taking a moment to reread what it had said. "Frank must have came straight here when he heard, then…well, you know."

Remus looked down at his watch, and then glanced up to the others. "We should get going." He said, tapping on his watch face. "You said the Tonks' are going to be at your house around three, right?

"Yeah," Harry nodded, turning around, walking over a few steps, and bending down to his parents' graves. "Bye guys." Then, all together, they apparated out, appearing on the dirt path that led up to the Potter manor.

Nymphadora, Andromeda, and Ted Tonks all appeared on the same dirt path with a pop at three o'clock. They walked briskly towards the gate, all-smiling pleasantly. "Dad, you're going to love it." Nymphadora gushed, changing her hair color to a bright red, which flowed down to her shoulders.

"I don't doubt it." Ted replied, knowing Harry. When the boy did something, it was rarely small, and he knew the Potter family house would be no exception.

As they neared the gate, Andromeda noticed the P shield and felt the magic around it. She remembered the feeling from when she would visit other pureblood houses when she was a young girl. Number twelve Grimmauld Place, she knew, had the same charm, only opening up for Sirius. "How are we going to get in?" She questioned, her eyes flicking over to her daughter.

"Oh, right." Nymphadora pouted, biting her lip. She placed her hand on the shield gently, wondering if it would work. She doubted it would, being that she wasn't a Potter yet, but you never know. Nothing happened. She glanced up to the grounds, hoping Harry would see them. The said man was walking towards the house with Remus and Sirius, all just about two hundred feet away. "Harry!" She called out, hoping to grab his attention. When they continued to walk, she took out her wand, thought about all the happy feelings and memories Harry gave her, and said, "Expecto Patronum."

A silver, four-legged beast bursted out of her wand, and began to race towards Harry. Its gallop was long and grand, showing a majesty that only a king of the animal kingdom could show. To the outside world it would seem like the patronus was a lioness, but Tonks knew that it was a mighty tiger, akin to Harry's animagus form. Before she had met and fell in love with the wizard, her patronus had been a small bird-like beast, but now that she considered Harry her protector, it had changed to show the world that. As the silver patronus neared the trio, Harry finally noticed it, and turned and looked towards the gates. Seeing them, he grinned and jogged over.

"Hey," He said, coming to a stop next to the gate. "Sorry about that, I thought I told you how to get in." He said, looking at Nymphadora, who shook her head in the negative. He grinned sheepishly, putting his hand on the gate and granting them passage. "Well, for the future, all you have to do is touch your wand to the stag's hoof, and say 'mynd I mewn', and you'll be allowed in." He told Andromeda and Ted. "The password means enter in welsh."

"And me?" Nymphadora asked, cocking an eyebrow, teasingly.

"You'll be let in the same way I am after we're married." Harry told her, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a hug. "I don't know how to change the charm to allow you in now, but since it's only a week, I figured it would be okay."

"The famous Harry Potter not knowing how to do something when it comes to magic? I'm shocked! Shocked I say." Nymphadora mocked jokingly, holding his hand.

"It's a hard charm." Harry shrugged, laughing. "I barely even understand it as it is. Dumbledore is still teaching me about ancient wards, so I don't really know about it in-depthly."

Harry gave Andromeda and Ted the grand tour of the place. They couldn't even believe the beauty of the house, each amazed that a man of only twenty-one years old, nearly twenty-two, could afford a place like this. That, however, was not considering the fact that the man they were talking about was none other than the famous boy who lived, Harry Potter.


	13. Laugh at a voice

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I decided to cut a chapter in half, so here's the first part of it, and the second part will be the next chapter. It should only be two chapters till the wedding, and then a few more chapters until the action starts: maybe around chapter 18 or 19. Like I said before, there are going to be quite a few time skips, like a month or two so be prepared. And I also thought some of you might like the little "Ronks" scene I threw in here.

S/N 2: So yeah, remember names…names are important, especially in this chapter and the next one. A lot of names are being dropped. Everything I say comes back in one form or another. And little details that might seem small might not necessarily be.

Chapter 13: Laugh at a voice

After the tour, the night passed by with laughter and joy. That was pretty much the two families; Andromeda and Ted for Nymphadora, and Remus and Sirius for Harry. Sure, Cedric, Viktor, Roger and the others were family, but not in the same way as parents, godfathers, and uncle figures. The night went by so fast that, before anyone knew it, the wedding day was breathing down on them, as Thursday came around, and with it, Harry's stag party and Tonks' hen night.

"So this is part of what you had planned?" Harry questioned, as Cedric pushed him out of his flat. Sirius, Viktor, Roger, Shacklebolt, and Remus sat in the background, waiting anxiously for the wizard to leave. "For me to go get liquor for my own party? How is that fair?"

"Because you're the one with the most money?" Cedric questioned rhetorically, forcing Harry out into the hall. Harry was barely an inch taller than him, but not much more powerfully built, so physically they were of the same size, making it easy to throw Harry out.

"No, I'm not, that's Viktor or…" The door slammed shut in Harry's face, leaving him in the cold—so to speak. "Roger." He finished in a whisper. Sighing, he marched over to the elevator, pushed the down button, and waited for the ding. _It better be worth it_, he thought to himself.

An hour later, Harry walked out of the elevator, bags of wizarding cocktails shrunken in his pockets. As he neared his door, he heard the voices of many of his friends from behind it, each laughing about something that they had planned. Throwing open the door, his eyes shifted around the room, gazing upon all of his friends: there was Neville Longbottom, Fred and George Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Theodore Nott, Albus Dumbledore, Rubeus Hagrid, Ted Tonks, Lilyre Moon, Terry Boot, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Viktor Krum, Roger Davies, Cedric Diggory, Wayne Hopkins, and a few members of the English Quidditch team.

They all waved to him, as his eyes moved over to the table that they had set up, which was lined with tons of food, drinks, cocktails, and spirits: there were bottles of Butterbeer Amber, jugs of Currant Rum, and flacons of Voicen's Vodka. Rolling his eyes, he turned and put the shrunken bags down on the counter. Before he knew it, however, his body was frozen stiff, and he was being dragged into the center of the living room, where Roger was spooning a potion into a glass from a small, steaming cauldron. He felt Sirius' arms wrap around him, as Roger handed Cedric the glass, and the wizard began to walk towards him; a mad grin on his face.

"What? What is that?" Harry gasped, sniffing the air. Then, as if a gust of wind blew it into his nostrils, a most recognizable smell entered his nose; he immediately recognized it for what it was. "No, no, please don't." He cried, hoping that they wouldn't pour the bubbly liquid down his throat. It was none other than Polyjuice potion: the potion that would turn him into anyone they so desired.

"Ready?" Cedric grinned, throwing a brown hair into the concoction. With a gurgle, it turned into a bubble-gum pink color, and with its smell, it looked as if it was muggle Pepto-Bismol. "You say you want to live with Tonks for the rest of your life, right? Well," He smiled, his gaze turning to everyone in the room, each holding a broad smile of their own. "Let's see if you can live as her for the next hour or so, okay? If you could be so kind as to do the honors, Sirius, I think we can get this party started." Sirius nodded, pulling Harry's head back, and opening up his mouth. Harry struggled for a second or two, before he realized it was a losing battle and gave in. "Enjoy!" Cedric cooed in an all too sweet voice as he forced the potion down Harry's throat.

Harry's stomach began to churn as the potion entered it; it's heavy and disgusting texture making it worse. Then he felt a pulse deep inside him, as the potion started to change him. He became shorter, becoming five and a half feet tall for the first time since he was in his third year at Hogwarts. His hair, which was once shoulder length and black, elongated and turned a brownish color. The creamy skin tone that he had, changed into a darker, although still light, complexion. Finally, his eyes, nose, and other features changed as well, as he changed into a woman.

"Is that Tonks' natural form?" Neville questioned, as the group looked over to Ted. Being her father, he was pretty much the only person, other than Harry, to see Nymphadora in her natural state.

"Yeah," Ted nodded, a small smirk on his face as looked over to Nymphadora-like Harry. "That's her, all right. That's Dora." He said, as laughter rushed up in his gut, the situation being uncannily hysterical.

"So how do you feel, Tonks? Oops," Roger joked in mock seriousness. "I mean Harry, yeah, that's what I mean."

"Funny." Harry muttered, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one. He could run away and wait it out, he could go into his magic room and find a reversal potion, or he could stay and let his friends have a good time at his expense. He knew which option he would pick, since, after all, Viktor and Roger both went through it when they were getting married.

Remus strolled over to Harry, putting his arm around the wizard's—polyjuiced into witch—shoulders. "You know, Tonks, if things don't work out with you and Harry, you're always welcome to give me a call." Remus said, making the room roar with laughter. Harry sighed, grabbed a butterbeer amber—which had much more 'zip' than a normal butterbeer—and dropped onto the couch, allowing what was to come, come.

"You're not sitting very lady-like, Tonks." Cedric said, noticing Harry's slouching. Harry grinned as the others laughed, held the bottle of butter beer towards Cedric, and took a large chug, accepting his fate. Cedric smiled down at his best friend, and held his bottle in the air. "To Harry Potter," He called out, gesturing to the man. "And his lose of freedom after he gets married."

"Here, here." The all said in unison, taking a sip out of their respected drinks.

"I'm surprised you didn't invite Cornfoot or Smith, since, after all, this is rag on Harry night, right?" Harry questioned, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, we did!" Cedric answered, taking a seat. The others stood around, either listening to the conversation or silently talking amongst each other. "But we came to the conclusion they're probably too busy looking in the mirror, telling each other how great they are." Again, the group, minus Sirius (who didn't understand the joke), though including Harry, bursted out in laughter—even Dumbledore had a small smile on his aged face.

Stephen Cornfoot was a pureblooded wizard in Harry's year at Hogwarts, who, like Harry, was in Ravenclaw, too. Being exceptionally clever, he was always trying to outdo Harry, wanting to prove himself as the superior wizard. He was a man who was exceedingly arrogant, incredibly talented, and unfortunately unlucky—what with being sorted into Ravenclaw, where Harry was, preventing him from being Prefect and, in turn, Headboy. If the boy had been in any other house, he would have had a much better chance of outdoing Harry, but he was far outshined by the Boy Who Lived when being in the same house.

His best friend, Zacharias Smith, was no better. Being even more arrogant and pretentious than Stephen, the wizard (who came from a long line of purebloods rumored to be descendants of Helga Hufflepuff) was on the verge of being belligerent and downright cruel to people. He was a skeptic of the greatest kind, questioning everything someone does if it goes against what he would do. Though he spoke loudly, he didn't carry a big stick to back it up: he was an average wizard at best. He and Stephen, while in Hogwarts, always seemed to get into tiffs with Harry and others, either out of jealousy or pure dislike of one another.

Sirius, on the other hand, furrowed his brows, as his eyes rolled around the room, searching and scanning. He knew that, without a doubt, Harry's animagus friend was here, enjoying the party. The thought, which had turned into an obsession over time in his half mad mind, was nagging him, eating away at his brain, begging to be solved, to be figured out. It was like a puzzle: the pieces were there, but their places needed to be spliced together. Since Harry had told him that he didn't know the man, he was able to whittle the list down to four—the four people at the party that he only knew of their family names or didn't know at all.

His first thought was Lilyre Moon: a Hufflepuff in Harry's year who seemed to have a calm and innocent air about him, the others were able to have an easy conversation when he was around—his best friend was Wayne Hopkins, with him having been a Hufflepuff, as well. But then there was Terry Boot, who happened to be a Ravenclaw, a clever boy who had spent more than enough time around Harry to secretly become an animagus with the man. Wayne Hopkins and Theodore Nott were also contenders, though they seemed less likely, as something about them gave Sirius a feeling that it wasn't them—for Theodore it was probably the fact that he was a Slytherin that gave Sirius that feeling. Neville Longbottom had entered Sirius' mind for a second, before the man threw it out, knowing that he, unfortunately, wasn't a good enough wizard to be classed with Remus and Cedric like Harry had said the wizard was. Sirius gave one last look around the room, scanning it again, before shaking his head, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, and returning to the party's festivities.

Meanwhile, the hen's party was going much the same way. The girls—Nymphadora, her mother, and a few of her friends—were at The Three Broomsticks, enjoying a drink to start the night. After ordering the drinks, Andromeda pushed over a white box with a red bow on top of it to Nymphadora, settling it in front of the metamorphmagus. "What's this?" Her daughter questioned, looking at her mother quizzically.

"It's something me and your father wanted to give you." Andromeda smiled, motioning for Nymphadora to open it up. Doing as she was told, Nymphadora unwrapped the bow, opening up the package slowly. Inside was one of the most beautiful and expensive gifts she had ever received. It was a silver tiara, with a floral design, and encrusted with pink, yellow, and blue diamonds; there was writing engraved on the inside part of it, though Tonks couldn't make out what it said. "I was hoping you would wear this on your wedding day. I wore it on my wedding day to your father over twenty-eight years ago." Andromeda whispered, as Nymphadora took the tiara out of the box.

"Mother," Nymphadora muttered, her eyes examining every part of the gift. "This is beautiful." She moved her hands up to the top of her head, and gently placed the tiara on top of her, batting her eyelashes as if she were a queen. Unsurprisingly, the tiara fit perfectly, as if it was forged just for her. "How do I look?"

"Gorgeous, my darling daughter." Andromeda replied, tears coming into her eyes. It was the first time that she realized that she would be losing her daughter. It hit her like a ton of bricks that her baby girl was all grown up; she was a beautiful, intelligent woman, who was going to marry and move away with the man of her dreams.

"Wow, Tonks." Lisa smiled, as the rest of the table turned towards the bride to be. Tonks flashed them a grin, moving her head in different poses as to show off the tiara.

"Where did you get that, Tonks?" A woman with long, silvery hair said, staring at the tiara with her wide, light green eyes that shined like a green pearl. Gaetana Robards was the daughter of the high-level auror Gawain Robards and an Italian witch who was an ambassador for the Italian Ministry of Magic to the British Ministry of Magic. She was an old friend of Tonks' from way back in her Hogwarts days, and hadn't seen the woman in a few months; for she worked at the Italian Ministry of Magic all the way over in Italy.

"My mom gave it to me." Nymphadora replied, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek and a big, one-armed hug. "Thank you, I love it." She whispered softly. She looked back up to her friends, taking a sip out of her glass and raising it up into the air. "Let's get this party started!"

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" A big, burly wizard said as he made his way over to the group; his sloppy tongue licking his pink, bearded lips. "If it isn't the most beautiful witches I've ever seen." His beady black eyes flicked to Tonks, who stared up at him blankly. "Especially you, doll." He turned around and let out a laugh to his friends, who sat a booth on the other side of the room, watching the exchange intensely. "So what do you say me and my friends come and join your little group?"

"No, that's okay." Hermione said, shaking her head in the negative. She never knew there were guys, wizards, still around like this: disgusting and chauvinistic. The people she associated with, the man she married, would never act like that. "Girl's night out, you know?" She replied, hoping he would get the message and leave. The other girls, she noted, seemed to be taking it a lot more lighthearted than she, showing their differences, mainly their less seriousness to life.

"What's the occasion?" He questioned, his gaze running over the women. _They're all attractive_, he thought to himself, _even the book nerd with the bushy brown hair_.

"She's getting married." Lisa replied, pointing to Tonks.

"Oh, are you?" The man asked, cocking an eyebrow. At Tonks' nod, he shook his head, clearly disappointed. "That's a shame, here I thought I had a chance. You sure you don't want a much more powerful, and probably better looking wizard to be your husband?"

"You? Better looking? More powerful?" The girls laughed, amazed at the ego of the man. "You do realize who it is she's marrying, don't you?" Gaetana inquired, wondering just how stupid and uninformed the guy was.

"How would I know?" The man sneered, not liking the fact that they were laughing at him. He was a ranger at the Welsh Dragon reserve, he took care of some of the most dangerous creatures on Earth, how dare they laugh at him! He could crush them with a simple flick of his wand, yet they risked his wrath?

"It's Harry Potter." Hermione stated, watching as the man's eyes bulged. Gone was the confidence, however undeserved it was, and in its place was fear: cold hard fear.

"The…Harry Potter?" He repeated slowly, as he backed away in said fear. He was no fool, he heard of Potter's exploits as a Hitwizard; he was feared when it came to the wizards who were on the run. Plus, with the man's legacy of surviving a killing curse, he wouldn't chance running into trouble.

"The one and only." Tonks grinned, almost mockingly.

"I'm sorry that I bothered you." He said frightfully. "Please don't tell him about this." He begged, turning around and running back to his table, where he slid into the booth, and whispered to his friends. A few seconds later they all threw a few sickles on the table, and left the pub, never looking back.

Finally, at long last, Harry changed back into his natural body, leaving behind Tonks' form. His friends had had their fun making cracks at him, calling him Nymphadora and the like, but now he could enjoy his party to the fullest. He cracked open another bottle of butterbeer amber, chugging it down in one gulp, loving the chill that ran over him. Cedric motioned him over to the group, where they were all huddled around a table, a bottle of Voicen's vodka and a few glasses in the center of it. Voicen's vodka was a wizarding drink from Sweden that had a number of random effects on the drinker's voice; they could lose it completely, scream uncontrollably, babble on for a few minutes, speak a different language, or even change the sound of their voice. There was really no structure to it, for the effects were different for everyone.

"Who's taking a shot with me and Harry?" Cedric asked, pouring a shot worth of Voicen's in two glasses: one for him and one for Harry. "Neville? Roger? Theo?" He poured three more as they nodded, each with an enthusiastic look on their face. "Weasleys?" He said, pouring another two glasses for the twins.

"Uhh hmm." Sirius coughed, cocking an eyebrow. Cedric smiled, filling up another two glasses for Sirius and Remus. Viktor gave a slight nod of his head, to which Cedric answered by pouring another glass. Finally, when there were only two people left that hadn't answered yet, the group turned to them.

Albus and Ted looked at each other, as if they were having a silent conversation. "Young people." Ted muttered, sliding the glass that was in front of him down to Cedric. Dumbledore slid his down a second later, making the room cheer. Cedric counted down from three, and then upon reaching one, they all lifted their glasses and down the clear liquid. It stung their throats, as the magic of the drink began to take affect, twisting and bending their vocal cords.

"Whoa!" Roger croaked, swallowing a few times. His throat seemed to swell and freeze for a few seconds, before disappearing, as if nothing had happened. "That's wicked."

"What?" Harry asked, his voice coming out as loud as a scream. It was as if he was in terrible danger, yelling out for whatever help that was near. "You're speaking…Dutch, or something."

"And you're screaming." Sirius told him, laughing slightly. He frowned, however, as no one reacted. Trying again, he sighed when the same results happened: nothing came out, like he was silenced by a spell.

"I think Sirius lost his voice." Remus nodded, having noticed the man trying to talk. The werewolf's voice was as high as a little girl's, which was awkward coming from a man who had gray streaks in his hair. Everyone laughed, realizing the strangeness of the situation.

After a few minutes, the effects wore off, and Ted and Dumbledore headed to the fireplace. "Thanks for the invite, Harry. You guys have fun." Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling as green flames sprung to life, transporting him out of the loft, back to his office.

"I'll see you tomorrow, son." Ted said, giving Harry a hug. "Don't get into too much trouble tonight." His eyes flicked to the younger guys that were still standing by the table, pouring another round of shots. "Have fun."

**Author's note:** Here is the revised list of students in Harry's year. I've added Kevin Entwhistle into Gryffindor, taking Harry's place, with Harry taking his place in Ravenclaw. As for some of the names you don't recognize, all of the last names are taken from the "Harry Potter and Me" interview, in which JKR showed the camera her notes on the students in Harry's year. The first names of the students, however, are my creation (like Lincola, Lilyre, Arethusa, and Calgary). Next chapter, I'll put up which ones are purebloods, halfbloods, and muggleborns.

Gryffindor 

Boys- Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Kevin Entwhistle.

Girls- Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Sophie Roper, Arethusa Rivers.

Ravenclaw 

Boys- Harry Potter, Stephen Cornfoot, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein.

Girls- Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, Su Li, Padma Patil, Morag MacDougal.

Hufflepuff 

Boys- Ernie Macmillan, Wayne Hopkins, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Lilyre Moon, Zacharias Smith.

Girls- Megan Jones, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Sally-Anne Perks, Calgary Runcorn.

Slytherin

Boys- Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini.

Girls- Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Millicent Bulstrode, Lincola Spinks.


	14. Betting on memories

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I know this chapter seems silly, but it was needed. The chapter I just wrote is chockfull of action-y goodness, which should be in five or so chapters!

S/N 2: The name-dropping is a big part of this chapter, so pay attention—especially when it comes to Despereaux. The wedding is going to be chapter 16, most likely, so be prepared!

Chapter 14: Betting on memories

Harry waved to Ted as he disappeared in a flash of green flames. "Come on, Harry, we're waiting." George yelled, sending a dungbomb at the wizard. Harry acted quickly and flicked his wand, stopping the stink bomb-like object mid-flight. With another flick of his wand, the dungbomb was sent flying back at George, where it crashed into his forehead, exploding in his face. "Oh, Merlin." He coughed out, his eyes tearing up.

"So shall we?" Harry grinned, paying no attention to the crying George, who was curled up in the fetal position on the ground, whimpering slightly. They all clunked their glasses together, and downed the shots, laughing at the after effects that it caused. "Not going to drink yours, George?" Harry questioned, as the man continued to sob. He shrugged, taking George's glass and chugging it. "Oh, well, can't let it go to waste."

The men grabbed some food, and dispersed for a few minutes, filling up their stomachs for another round of drinks. "You remember when you got dumped by Fleur, Roger?" Cedric grinned, wanting to rag on Roger for a little while. "Man, that was funny. I had a jolly good laugh for days upon days."

"She dumped you for that guy, what was his name, Despereaux, right?" Harry added, making the whole room cackle with laughter. "Yeah, yeah, Despereaux Barnaud."

"I did not get dumped by her for Despereaux. They were just friends…I think." Roger muttered, embarrassedly. He was over the whole Fleur thing (the pair had gone out for a few months after the Tri-Wizard tournament), but he knew that wouldn't stop the guys from ragging on him about it.

"More like you hoped they were at the time." Cedric corrected, slapping Roger on the back.

"You remember when Cho dumped you for Harry?" Viktor rebutted, knowing that Cedric would blush redder than a Weasley's hair. Cho Chang had broken up with Cedric one day during her sixth year, with the intention of starting something with Harry, though nothing really ever did.

Cedric turned to Viktor, looking at him with his gray eyes. "You remember when you lost the Tri-wizard cup to me?" Cedric replied, smiling.

"You're all a bunch of babies." Lilyre Moon laughed, earning a glare from Roger, Cedric, and Viktor—though, with Harry laughing at them too, they couldn't hold it against Lilyre. Harry headed over to the food table, Lilyre and Theodore following behind him, leaving Cedric, Roger, and Viktor to rag on each other. "Having fun so far?" Lilyre questioned, taking a cookie off of a levitating plate.

"Of course." Harry grinned, grabbing some food for himself. "Daphne's with Tonks, isn't she?" Harry asked Theodore, looking over to the former Slytherin. Daphne Nott, nee Greengrass, was Theodore's wife of a year and a half: she hailed from an ancient line of wizards just as pure as the Notts. Harry and Tonks had attended their wedding, which was both extravagant and beautiful.

"Daphne?" Theodore replied, smirking slightly. "I've never heard you use her real name; it sounds strange coming from you." He gave out a laugh, one that was loud and jolly and from the gut. "Yeah, she is. Quite an attendance, too: that Robards girl is there, all the way from Italy."

"Gaetana, yeah, Tonks loves her. She's probably her best friend; Nymphie misses her dearly." Harry took a bite out of his food, swallowed, then said, "I'm sorry I haven't seen you guys these past few weeks, with Sirius getting out of Azkaban, and the wedding, I've been super busy."

"No problem," Lilyre waved it off, knowing that the man barely had time to breath some days. "My mother came by my house before I left for here and told me I couldn't go: she said something about not wanting 'mudbloods' and 'muggles' mingling with her 'pureblooded' son." The man, who had dark, tanned skin and dirty-blond hair laughed, knowing how hypocritical his mother was. "She's a first generation pureblood and she's ranting about blood purity; meanwhile, my father's side, the Moons, have been around since the 1500s and he doesn't care about blood purity. Go figure."

"Lisa's a first generation, too." Harry muttered, looking over to Roger—the man was talking with Cedric and Viktor, still making fun of the others. "Her grandparents were all muggleborns."

"There have been a lot of pureblood families rising lately." Theodore nodded, having noticed it before. "I mean, look at our year in Hogwarts, we had more purebloods than any other. And not all of them were old, some of them like Runcorn are pretty recent: I'm pretty sure she's a third or fourth generation."

"I wonder why that was." Wayne Hopkins, having come over to the group just seconds before, questioned out loud, not expecting an answer. He was a halfblood himself, having a muggleborn father and a halfblood mother; who, incidentally, had a muggleborn father and a halfblood mother herself, as well.

"Because of You-Know-Who." Theodore answered, turning his attention to the man. "Back then, back when he was in power, it looked as if he was going to win, since he was completely dominating the Ministry. The purebloods felt safe, felt like they were going to finally take over, so they had children; I know I was born for that reason. Then, when all of us were just a year old, the Dark Lord was destroyed thanks to…" He looked over to Harry, shrugging, not really feeling the need to go on.

"Calgary Runcorn is a third generation." Neville supplied, grabbing a butterbeer and giving them a smile.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Have something with her, do you, Nev?"

"Maybe." Neville shrugged, walking away without giving them an answer either way. Harry watched as the man walked away, his eyes furrowed in thought: he remembered that during the later years of Hogwarts, Calgary and Neville became friends, but Harry had always thought that Neville liked Sophie Roper or Arethusa Rivers, both being members of the Gryffindor house. Plus, if he remembered correctly, Neville had blossomed his seventh year, and had attracted the attention of Lincola Spinks, a surprisingly pretty and nice Slytherin girl. All in all, when Neville left Hogwarts, despite going five years without many friends, he left with a few romantic eyes on him, and even more people who he could call a friend.

"Yule ball?" Sirius asked Remus, having overheard the term being used in Cedric, Viktor, and Roger's conversation. Remus, Sirius, and Kingsley were off to the side, watching the younger men in the room, their minds drifting to days that have long since past.

"A dance for the Tri-Wizard tournament that happened at Christmas time." Remus replied, turning his attention to Sirius. He remembered attending the ball, having been a teacher at Hogwarts since two years prior, and seeing all of his students, fourth year and above, dressed in their best; it was a festive affair for all involved.

"Who was Harry's date?" Sirius questioned, interestedly. If Harry was anything like Sirius thought he was, or in anyway similar to James, Harry's date would have been an equal in everyway, shape, and form—though Sirius doubted such a lady, other than Tonks, existed.

"A Slytherin in his year by the name of Tracey Davis." Remus answered, smiling. "A pretty, smart girl who stood up in Slytherin when people ridiculed her for not being a pureblood—she's a halfblood."

A half an hour later, which equated to three empty bottles of Voicen's vodka, the men sat, sipping on a butterbeer amber. The drunken cloud of haze was beginning to form in front of all their eyes. Yet, even though they were almost all out of liquor, the night was still young. "Harry, what can we do to embarrass you, eh?" Cedric wondered out loud, hoping to think of something funny. The liquor was inhibiting his usually sharp mind, making it quite hard to imagine anything.

"I'll bet you," Fred slurred, repeatedly opening his eyes to see Harry. "Ten galleons to run down Diagon Alley naked; from the Owl Emporium to Wheezes."

"That's a long way." Cedric muttered, a small smirk forming on his face. It had been awhile since they did a stupid and immature act, a little over a year, but he was glad to see that the habit wasn't behind them just yet: they still had a few good years left in them.

"Twenty galleons, and I'll do it." Harry said, his eyes flicking to Cedric's.

"Heck, I'll give you fifty." Roger muttered, not thinking Harry would go through with it.

Sirius' eyes bulged when Roger said it; amazed at the way these kids spent their money. They threw it around in bets and games, as if it meant nothing to them; which might be the opposite, since they all tried to outdo and out earn the other. But as Harry once said _'You must spend money to make it'._ "I'll throw in fifty, as well." Sirius added, putting his money into the pot.

"Me too." Viktor agreed, nodding his head in anticipation. In his mind, it was always fun to watch one of his best friends make a fool of himself.

"That's what?" Harry mumbled, using his fingers to count up the galleons. "One hundred and seventy?"

"Two hundred and twenty." Cedric corrected. "I'm putting in fifty myself."

"Lilyre and I will put in fifty." Theodore Nott said, nodding over to Lilyre Moon, who took a sip on his butterbeer, not really paying attention.

"Make it an even three hundred." Neville said, surprising the rest. Usually it was just Harry, Cedric, Roger, and Viktor who did dumb bets, not the cautious Neville. Neville Longbottom was a good friend of Harry's, ever since that day in Hogwarts that the wizard had helped the poor boy. It was a memory that was forever engrained in Neville's memory, since, after all, it changed his life for the better.

_After being completely embarrassed by Malfoy during his fifth year, Neville ran up to the highest tower of Hogwarts, intent on crying until he couldn't cry anymore. Malfoy made fun of him, taunted him, picked on him, and overall bullied him since the first day the pair had met. And, due to the coward that he thought he was, Neville didn't do a thing about it. He didn't fight back, he didn't tell anyone, he just took it, and allowed it to stew inside him, until he couldn't take it anymore. Worse yet, since he had no friends, no other Gryffindor stuck up for him; in fact, other than Hermione Granger, no Gryffindor even noticed his presence. And he knew the only reason Hermione was nice to him was because she didn't have any friends in Gryffindor either; all of hers were Ravenclaw, the house she should have been in. _

_The wizard continued on to his destination, sprinting down the halls as his shoes clicked against the stone floor. It was late, being close to curfew, so the wizard didn't think anyone would be around. He would be proven wrong, however, as he ran into someone as he turned the corner the hallway that would lead to the Astronomy tower. _

"_Ow." Neville muttered as he landed on the floor with a thud. He looked up to see whom it was, and was pleasantly pleased that it was Harry Potter. The boy put out his hand towards Neville, offering to help him up. Neville accepted it gladly, allowing the boy to hoist him to his feet. "Sorry about that, Harry." He said, quietly._

"_It's okay, no harm done." Harry smiled, checking the boy over. Seeing the tears in his eyes, Harry frowned. "Is everything all right?" He questioned, worriedly. _

"_Yes…no." Neville whispered, his gaze floating to the floor. "It's Malfoy. I can't take it anymore, and I'm too much of a coward to force him to stop what he's doing. Heck, even the Gryffindors laugh at me because I'm so scared. I forget things, I'm not brave; I'm no Gryffindor."_

"_Being scared does not make you any less of a Gryffindor, Neville." Harry chided to the boy, putting his hand on Neville's shoulder. "In fact, the bravest person isn't the one who has no fear, it's the person that faces the fear that he has. Face your fears head on, Neville, never run away from them. Everyone fears something, but when it comes down to it, its how we deal with them that defines us. You can't let your fear get in so deep inside of you that it gets the best of you. Because it's only in that fear that we'll fall." _

"_You're Harry Potter, though." Neville cried, wiping his eyes. "Everyone loves you. Me? I'm just a stupid, pudgy kid who's a terrible wizard. All I have going for me is my last name, and that's only because it's a pureblood one." _

"_Neville," Harry said softly. "Stand up to your fears, and you'll see that people will have your back. How do you know that all you have going for you is your name if you won't do anything about it?" He turned around and began to walk away. Before he was out of hearing range, however, he stopped and said, "Confront your fears, Neville, and you'll see that people will have your back."_

_Neville did just that the next day, as Draco walked towards him with a mocking smirk. Instead of the normal scenario, Neville took out his wand and pointed it at Malfoy shakily. "You…you stop it, Malfoy. I won't take it anymore." _

_Draco cocked a menacing eyebrow at the boy, glancing around to his Slytherin gang that hovered behind him. "Or what? Are you going to weed me to death? We both know the only thing you're halfway decent at is Herbology." _

"_Or…or I'll challenge you to a wizard's duel." Neville muttered, gulping as he realized just what it was that he had said. His eyes widened in fear, hoping that Draco wouldn't take the threat seriously, have a good laugh about it, and walk away._

"_You and me dueling?" Draco guffawed, holding his sides. "That was too funny. Thanks, Longbottom, I needed that. Now," He said, cracking his knuckles and taking out his wand. "What do you say I…" Draco's eyes flicked over Neville's shoulders, where Harry and Roger stood ten feet away, staring down at the boy. Almost unnoticeably, Harry shook his head, sending Draco a silent threat. Pocketing his wand, Draco sneered and turned, walking away in a huff._

_Neville blinked, not understanding what had happened. He spun around, seeing Harry and Roger strolling down the hall, their backs turned to Neville. He scanned the hallway, noticing that no other passageways would lead into the narrow hall. Which left only one conclusion: they came from the other side and protected Neville by standing behind him, and then they left, not wanting or needing any gratitude. "Thank you, Harry." Neville whispered, knowing that he would pay the boy back one day._ _And, after that day, the pair had become friends, talking and laughing with each other whenever they had the chance. _

"Three hundred galleons?" Harry said, checking to make sure everyone was for real. The rest of the attendees threw in a few galleons themselves, pushing the total up to an incredible amount of three hundred and fifty galleons. "You got yourself a deal, there, fellas. If you could make your checks payable to Harry Potter, that would be grand." He grinned, disapparating out to a small alleyway at the end of Diagon Alley. He heard the familiar pops behind him, signaling that everyone else had come as well. "You might not want to look this way." He said, disrobing. "Someone take my clothes back with you when you go. Well, I'm off."

They watched as he walked down Diagon Alley, naked and not a care in the world. Whether it was the liquor or his ego, he didn't run like they thought he would, instead he took his time, enjoying the sights. Of course, since it was late, being around midnight, no one was really out; a few hags here and there, but no one that would really care if they saw a naked wizard. They laughed as he engaged in a conversation with one of the hags that he had passed. The hag, surprisingly, was able to keep her attention to his eyes, not even giving a peek. "Well, this was fifty galleons well spent." Roger grunted, running a hand over his face.

After returning back to the loft, Harry put his clothes back on and cracked open another butterbeer amber. He looked up at the clock, and noticed through his blurry vision that it was nearing one in the morning. Remus, Shacklebolt, and a few others left, leaving just Harry, Cedric, Roger, Viktor, the Weasley twins, Sirius, and Neville. They all took a shot of currant red rum—the Voicen's vodka was gone—and staggered down to the Leaky Cauldron, intent on buying some more drinks.

"Drinks on us!" Cedric yelled out, entering the pub. It was pretty crowded for a Thursday night, with hags, vampires, and wizards scattered about. All of their eyes flicked up to the group that had just walked in; raising their hands, they called over the servers and ordered their drinks quickly before Cedric rescinded his offer. The group of eight took the large table in the corner, which was dimly lit by a light above and masked in shadows.

They got their drinks, drank them down, and got another round. They were milking the party for all that it was worth. Since all of them were so young, being in their early twenties, they still had a lot of party in them; Sirius, being the oldest of the group, had wanted a night like this since the day his name was cleared. It was a way for him to let loose, and go back to the ways that he used to be, way back when James was alive. The door to the pub flung open, and a group of loud, raucous girls came staggering in, the lead one wearing a beautiful tiara. "Tonks?" Harry muttered, wondering if the haze was making him see things.

"Harry?" Tonks questioned, rubbing her eyes. Seeing that it was him, she ran over to him, engulfing him in a hug that knocked him to the floor. She kissed him after pulling him up, and sat on his lap, taking a sip of his drink. Hermione and Lisa both sat on their respective husband's laps as well, wrapping their arms around them lovingly.

"Are you guys drunk?" Hermione asked, looking at the group and seeing the telltale signs of drunkenness.

"They are." Cedric replied, pointing to the other end of the table that housed Harry, Roger, and Sirius. "Viktor is as well, so that's why he's staring at you blankly." He laughed, and then gestured to Neville and the Weasley twins. "Neville is pretty bad, too. The twins are in their own little world, and I'm pretty much the only one who isn't drunk. But," he grinned, chugging the rest of his drink. "That doesn't mean I won't be."

"Yeah," Hermione muttered slowly, eyeing the group. Her group was pretty drunk, too, with Tonks being the worst. Sighing, she knew she would have to take care of them all, since Cedric seemed to be leaving it in her hands. "Cheers!" She whispered, watching as they all guzzled down an amber liquid that seemed as if it could be used as paint remover. The rest of the night passed by, and by four o'clock, the parties had dispersed with Harry and Tonks rushing back to his loft, to spend their last night, not including the eve of their wedding, as an unmarried couple together.

**Author's note:** Here is the list of which students in Harry's year are purebloods, halfbloods, and muggleborns.

Purebloods:

Boys- Stephen Cornfoot, Ernie Macmillan, Lilyre Moon, Zacharias Smith, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Neville Longbottom, and Ron Weasley.

Girls- Hannah Abbott, Calgary Runcorn, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Lincola Spinks, Sophie Roper, and. Lisa Turpin.

Halfbloods:

Boys- Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Wayne Hopkins, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot.

Girls- Padma Patil, Pavarti Patil, Su Li, Mandy Brocklehurst, Tracey Davis, Millicent Bulstrode, Lavender Brown, Arethusa Rivers, Susan Bones, Morag, MacDougal, and Megan Jones.

Potter, Patil, Bulstrode, Rivers, Bones, MacDougal, and Jones are all pureblood names.

Muggleborns:

Hermione Granger, Sally-Anne Perks, Kevin Entwhistle, Anthony Goldstein, and Justin Finch-Fletchley.


	15. Rehearsing the day

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Next chapter will most likely be the wedding, though I could be editing more into it, pushing it back another chapter: I did decide, however, not to have an extended wedding chapter, instead I'm having it short and sweet, as there's no need to have a big, huge thing.

S/N 2: Red herrings, red herrings, oh how I love thee. And, yes, Harry's wand is a different one from the one he has in the books.

Chapter 15: Rehearsing the day

"_Now, Mr. Potter," Ollivander whispered (though his voice carried around the room), walking over to the windowsill where a few wands sat, displayed to the patrons of Diagon Alley. He reached down, taking the black wand that was on a dusty, purple pillow into his hands; his moon-like silver eyes gazing at it intensely. "This wand was one of the first that I ever made—I remember every wand I've ever made. Ebony, 12 ¾, and limber, single phoenix tail feather: good for charm work. It's a very powerful wand, son. Go on, give it a try." _

_Harry gripped the wood and flicked it. Immediately, sparks jetted out of the tip, as if they were small, bright fireworks. They rushed up into the air, blue of color, before bursting out in gold, disappearing. Harry grinned, knowing that this was his wand, and it would learn and grow with him as he traveled through the world of magic. It would be his conduit, his friend; it would allow him to channel all that was inside of him, empower him, and maybe even teach him. _

"_Interesting, very interesting." Ollivander muttered, looking Harry over. His silver eyes were as wide as saucers, showing his curiosity. There have been a few people as difficult as Harry was come through his wand shop, and all of them had turned out to be the greatest wizards of the age: Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle being the main two. He remembered the day that young Tom Riddle had received his wand, he had immediately written off to Dumbledore, telling the wise wizard the circumstances of the purchase. _

"_Excuse me," Harry said, politely. He was a little freaked out by Ollivander's constant stare, finding it creepy. Being locked in a cupboard for most of his life, and otherwise unnoticed, the attention he was getting gave Harry an awkward feeling. "But what's interesting?" He asked, wondering what it was about his wand that had peaked the older man's interest. _

"_The phoenix feather that's in that wand came from a phoenix who's only given one; that wand has sat on that pillow for close to a hundred years. It's interesting that you, Harry Potter, the only known person to survive a killing curse, should be picked to wield that wand." Ollivander told him, still gazing at Harry inquisitively. "I think we should expect great things from you, Mr. Potter."_

Harry jutted up in his bed; sweat was dripping off of his brow_. Strange_, he thought to himself, remembering the dream of his wand: it was as if his wand was calling out to him. He reached over to his nightstand, making sure his ebony wand was still there. Sure enough, it was right where he left it the night before, untouched. His green eyes flipped over to the bedside clock; seeing that it was still early, he rolled over, and wentback to sleep.

The next morning, Canteen's Catering had came and set up, then left without any problems, promising to be their early on Saturday for the reception. Andromeda and Ted had overseen it, as Nymphadora and Harry were sleeping in, taken care of their hangovers with a good night's sleep. By midday, however, the pair had risen and was rehearsing the wedding ceremony with Sirius, Remus, the Tonks', and Cedric. It would be quick, they realized, barely over the fifteen-minute mark, though the party after would be around five hours.

After the rehearsal, while the rest of the attendees were either inside the manor or had gone back home to get ready for the dinner later that night, Tonks and Harry were in the backyard, walking hand in hand. Harry grinned mischievously, and turned into his animagus form, galloping across the green grass. Turning his attention back to Tonks, the animal chased at her, his head bouncing up and down: he looked like a happy dog. She shrieked, and ran away, laughing all the while. She didn't get far, however, as she tripped, being born clumsy, and he pounced on her, pinning her lightly to the ground with his big, white paws.

"Get off of me, you big oaf!" Tonks giggled, trying to push the white tiger off of her. "You breath smells like kitty litter." The tiger licked her face, his tongue tickling her cheery cheeks. "Stop, stop, that tickles!" She laughed again, wishing she was stronger than what she was, so she would be able to push him off.

Harry rolled off of her, resting his large tiger head on her stomach. She petted him behind his ears, making him purr—which sounded like a low growl or cough—in response. With a pop, he turned back into a human, keeping his head on her stomach. He moved his hands above his head, and began to tickle her, making her continue the laughter from before. "This is for the kitty litter crack." He said, smiling.

"I'm sorry, okay," Tonks giggled, unable to control herself. "Your breath smelled minty-fresh." Apparently satisfied, he stopped tickling her, and turned back into a tiger, rising to his feet and running around. Tonks also rose to her feet, patting the wrinkles out of her top robe: it was long and purple, though she had a muggle-like t-shirt of the Weird Sisters underneath it. "Harry, baby, come here, I want to give you something." She said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a package wrapped in quidditch paper.

Harry pranced over to her in his tiger form, transforming back to a human just a few feet away from her. "What is this?" He questioned, accepting the gift and studying it. She gestured to it as an answer, making him open it to see. Doing as he was told, he ripped open the package, and took out the gift. They were a pair of black cotton socks that had nothing magical about them, making them normal muggle ones. "Socks?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow, amusedly.

"Yeah, socks." Tonks nodded, slowly, her gaze on the ground. "Just in case you get cold feet tomorrow. Those can keep them warm, you know?" She looked up at him, her eyes showing an innocence and frailty that was never there before. It was as if she was a scared little girl, nervous that her whole world would crumble sooner or later. Though she was the bravest person Harry had ever met, in this scenario her bravery was zapped out of her.

"Cold feet from me should be the least of your worries, Nymphie." Harry said softly, as he ran a hand along her cheek. He kissed it gently, lingering there for just a second, and then pulled back, smiling. "The only thing you should worry about, honey, is making sure that tomorrow is the happiest day of your life. That, and having me not spoil you." He finished with a grin.

"Why would I not want you to spoil me?" She replied, sticking her tongue out at him, playfully. Then, reaching into her other pocket, she took out a black felt box: it was small, barely the size of a palm of a hand. "This is what I really wanted to give you." She said, handing it over to him. He opened the box up, and revealed a golden ring with an emerald stone. It, like Nymphadora's engagement ring, had a P in the center of it, signifying the Potter family.

"Tonks…this is…where did you get this? It's too much. You can't…you can't…" He rambled, not knowing how to react. He was the one to give big, extravagant presents, not Tonks. It was shocking to the man to receive such a gift, having never gotten one like it before.

"I've been saving up for it." Tonks replied, shrugging, while taking the ring out of the box and putting it on his right ring finger. "I love you, Harry, and I always will. Why can't I do something nice for you once in awhile? Take it, and know that it shows how much I love you, okay?" She leaned in and gave him a tender, lingering kiss, biting his lip lightly. He kept his eyes closed for a few seconds, reveling in the feeling that she gave him. "I love you." She whispered, taking his hand, and dragging him back to the house.

Later that night, all of their friends had come by for the rehearsal dinner: Roger and Lisa, Cedric, Viktor and Hermione, Gaetana, Remus, Sirius, Kingsley, and Ted and Andromeda. Harry and Tonks had given them, those who had not seen it before, the tour of the place, which they had to rant and rave until they got it, and then moved onto the dinner. It was elegant and peaceful, with the conversation steering away from the impending nuptials. After dinner, they had all moved into the grand living room, and sat about, discussing different topics.

"So, tell me, what is it that Hermione does?" Sirius questioned, eyeing the girl as she made her way over to them. Harry's attention flicked to her as well, as she stared quizzically towards them. She had milk-white skin and light freckles, bushy brown hair, brown eyes, and a button nose. When she was younger, her front teeth were rather large, though, being older and bigger, she grew into them. "She seems like such a clever girl, and Remus said she was one of the most intelligent wizards of your generation."

"She's," Harry began, biting his lip, as if having an internal debate "She's a librarian." He said, finally. "She works in the record department of the Ministry."

"Talking about me?" Hermione asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from Harry. She looked at him, pointedly, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Yeah, actually, we were." He smiled. "I was just telling Sirius that you're a librarian." He emphasized the word librarian, as he cocked an eyebrow at her. She narrowed her gaze to him, studying him with her brown eyes. Then, with a slight nod, she seemed to answer an unasked question. Harry leaned closer to Sirius, his voice barely above a whisper—though most of the people in the room already knew what he was about to say. "She's an Unspeakable: she works in the Department of Mysteries. She specifically works on studying the powerful magic of the House-elf."

Sirius' eyes went wide, as they turned to Hermione. She gave him a small smile, and put her finger up to her lips, telling him to keep his mouth shut. "Of course." He nodded, knowing how important it was for an Unspeakable to stay a secret, hidden from the world except to those close to them. Those who were known to the public as a whole were delegated to bottom jobs, not being privy to the real secrets of the department.

"So," Harry smiled, turning his full attention to Sirius. "How was it? Did it feel good to ride it again?" Harry said, talking about Sirius' flying motorbike. Hagrid had returned it to him a few days ago, and the man had ridden it all the way from Grimmauld Place.

Sirius grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "I can't believe Hagrid still had it after all this time: twenty years." He had done a quick check up of it yesterday morning, before Harry's party, and had added a charm that would allow it to go just as fast as a broom would. Along with that charm, it already had a size increasing charm, which allowed it to expand when needed, an invisibility booster, allowing it and all aboard to become invisible, and a few other precautionary charms. He was proud of it, and thrilled to have it back, loving it for the piece of his past that it represented: his rebellious nature.

Meanwhile, across the room, Lisa and Tonks were engaged in a conversation. It was shallow and pleasant, not forcing either to focus too much, instead allowing them to enjoy each other's company. "So Tonks, are you guys going on your honeymoon right after?" Lisa questioned, taking a sip out of her glass.

"No," Tonks pouted, shaking her head, not liking the fact that she wouldn't get to go away after her wedding. "We can't because Monday is when Quidditch practice begins for Harry, so we have to wait until after the World Cup. Though, we are going to Chez Sol, you know, the resort in Matreville, for the night."

"Matreville? That's the all-wizarding town on the Mediterranean, right?" Lisa questioned, hearing the name before. Matreville was like Hogsmeade, though much larger and had a lot more wizarding folk within its boundaries.

"You got it." Tonks nodded, happily. It would be here first time at Matreville, and she couldn't wait to experience it, having heard so much about the village.

"Harry, can we speak with you for a moment?" Andromeda said pleasantly, as her and Ted came up to the man. They were both smiling with a look of anticipation and excitement on their features. Ted had his hands clasped behind his backing, seemingly holding something, though Harry didn't know what.

"Sure," Harry replied, rising to his feet. He gripped Sirius' shoulder, as if to tell him he'd be back, before following his future in-laws out of the room, and to the patio in the back. "What's up?" He questioned, closing the door behind him. He waved his wand to the lights off to the side, alighting the area so they could see.

"We wanted to give you something." Ted said, handing Harry a brown wooden box. Looking at it, Harry opened it up slowly, wondering just what it was. His breath hitched in his throat as it was revealed to him: it was a golden pocket watch, with a P crest on the top of it, an insignia that was an exact replica of the one that was on his and Nymphadora's rings. It was similar to the one that could be found on the manor's gate, but without a shield.

"Wow, this is marvelous." Harry told them, taking the watch out of the box and running a finger over it. The metal was cold in Harry's hands, though the springtime air was warm and breezy. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, sweetie." Andromeda smiled, pulling him into a hug. "We love you, and are very proud that Tonks found a man as good and loving as you are. We couldn't ask for anything more." She whispered in his ear.

"Thank you." Harry whispered back, hugging her with both arms. It felt good to Harry to know the touch of motherly love: that's what Andromeda was to him, his mother. "It means a lot to me, honestly."

Pulling back from the hug, he attached the watch to his robe, allowing it to dangle above his waist. They all smiled at each other, then turned and strolled back into the party, where Viktor and the rest were getting up from their respective chairs and heading towards the stairs. "Ah, what are we doing?" Harry questioned, taking Tonks' hand in his own, and following them up.

"Quidditch, anyone?" Sirius answered, laughing slightly. Viktor had started a frenzy when he said he wanted to try out the attic quidditch pitch, and that's where they were heading. "I haven't ridden a broom in such a long time." Sirius sighed, Azkaban Prison creeping into his thoughts again: so much time lost.

"How long?" Harry asked, his eyes flicking over to his godfather. Sirius bit his lip, thinking back through all the years. "Since I was in my last year at Hogwarts, when I was seven-teen. So I guess twenty-six years." He snorted, knowing how bad that sounded. He always liked flying a broom back in his early years; sure, he was no James Potter when it came to skill, but still, he found it enjoyable.

The group entered the attic, and looked up at the charmed, sun lit ceiling that swirled with clouds. Harry jogged over to a door that no one had noticed before, flicked his wand, and threw it open. The others followed him in, and noticed it was a broom shed that housed eight to ten Cleansweep Sevens. All of his good brooms and quidditch accessories were on the first floor, mounted in a broom closet akin to the one he had back in the loft; it had posters hanging on the walls, books about quidditch, and brooms and uniforms on display. This room, however, was pretty barebones with just the brooms, and a set of quidditch balls.

"Cleansweeps?" Roger scoffed, playfully, taking down one of the brooms. "Couldn't spring for Firebolts, could you?" He jested, handing one of the brooms over to his wife. Lisa shrugged, taking it and running off.

Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. "It's the skill of the flyer that matters, Rogey, not the brooms. So, when you get passed by your wife, don't blame the broom." Viktor and Cedric laughed, earning an angry glare from Roger.

"Hey!" Lisa pouted, acting affronted. "I'm not so bad." True, she wasn't as good of a flyer or a player as Viktor or Harry, maybe even Cedric and Roger, but at least she tried, and in her mind, that's all that mattered.

"No," Cedric grinned, slapping Roger on the back. "But Roger is." In truth, Roger and Cedric were of the same skill level, having both played during Hogwarts: Roger for Ravenclaw and Cedric for Hufflepuff.

Those who were playing took off into the air, while the rest—Hermione, Andromeda, Ted, and Remus—plopped down onto a grassy hill that was next to the broom closet. It was a fun game, with Harry and Viktor playing the keepers, allowing the rest to shoot and score on them. Before long, the night passed by, and everyone went home, intent on getting a good night's sleep for the big day tomorrow.

AN: The big, burly, cocky wizard from two chapters ago wasn't Ron: it was just a nameless guy, that's all—though he might come back sometime. As for Ron: the reason why he wasn't there at the party is because he and Harry aren't friends. I thought I showed that enough in the beginning chapters, but I guess not, oh well.


	16. Bells will be ringing

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: It should be two or three more chapters until the action starts, and the time skips are going to be a lot more noticeable now, so be ready for them.

S/N 2: So I trimmed down the wedding scene immensely, as it added nothing to the story and it was just overly awkward. If, however, you want a more indepth version, just review and tell me, and I'll email it to you—I have it written out.

Chapter 16: Bells will be ringing

"Master Harry, sir." Zeali chirped, tugging on Harry's arm the next morning. The wizard rolled over, pulling the elf up and onto the bed as a result. "Master Harry!" The elf tried again, this time kicking Harry in the leg. "You told Zeali to wake you up at this time, sir, no matter what it took."

"I'm up, I'm up!" Harry mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes. He sat up in his bed and looked at the clock to his left, sighing as he realized it was just four hours until his wedding. He knew that Tonks was already up, and getting ready for the day back at the manor, but Harry didn't have that much to do. All he had to do was take a shower, grab something to eat, put on his robes, pull his hair back into a ponytail, and apparate there. Heck, even Cedric had more to do than him, so there was no need to wake up any earlier.

He fell out of bed, landing on the wooden floor with a loud thud. "Ow," He muttered, rubbing his crushed nose. He jumped up, and headed towards the door, grabbing a shirt that was hanging off the chair. He threw the shirt on, as he exited his bedroom, his bare feet flapping against the cold, hard floor. "Zeali," He said, hearing his house elf following behind him. "Do you think you could make me some breakfast?"

"Will do, Harry, sir." Zeali chirped, running ahead on his short legs, and entering the kitchen. Immediately, the elf turned on the stove, and cracked some eggs, the scent wafting throughout the loft.

Harry sighed, as the thought of this being the last time he'd be living in his apartment entered his mind. He would miss it that was for certain. He had spent four years living in it, and it was filled with memories of his friends and Tonks. His eyes roamed around the room, as he noticed for the first time just how empty it was without his belongings—all of which had been moved over to the manor.

He dropped into the couch, grabbing the prophet and opening it to read. Surprisingly, his wedding was only a blurb on the bottom of the front page, barely a paragraph. After checking out the other headline stories, Harry threw the paper onto the coffee table, leaned back in the couch, and closed his eyes. He wasn't tired, he just wanted to think about the future; the future that him and Tonks would make for themselves. He thought he'd be a good husband. After all, he would love, hold, take care of, and protect her for the rest of his life, and at the end of the day, isn't that what husbands were supposed to do?

His nostrils flared, as he smelt bacon in the air, which made his stomach growl. Rising to his feet, he strolled into the kitchen, and grabbed himself a glass of pumpkin juice. He watched as Zeali dumped the food onto a plate, and placed it on the table in front of him. "Thank you, Zeali." He said, taking his fork and eating some of the eggs.

"You're welcome, Harry, sir." Zeali bowed, looking at the floor. He snapped his fingers, cleaning the pan with a simple gesture. Then, with another snap of his fingers, they disappeared; presumably back to where they came from. "I will go and layout your clothes for you, Master Harry." Harry nodded, unable to reply due to the mouthful of eggs that he had.

As he rose from his chair, his breakfast being done, he heard the familiar sound of people apparating in with a pop. His eyes flicked to the living room, where Remus and Sirius stood, dressed in fine silk robes—since Remus had been working at Hogwarts for the past nine years, he had a steady income, and could afford decent clothes—smiling happily at him. "Today's the big day," Sirius chuckled, slapping Harry on the back. Sirius seemed to be a giddy schoolboy, looking even more excited than Harry was. He remembered James' wedding, it had been the time of his life, and couldn't wait to have the same experience at the wedding of his best friend's son's, his godson.

"Yeah, I got that." Harry grinned, returning the favor. His eyes ran over Sirius' outfit; he wore deep purple robes, almost a black color, with silver trim. He allowed his long, black hair to fall casually over his shoulders, straightened out using charms. Remus, on the other hand, was wearing royal blue robes, with blue trousers and a white shirt. He looked healthier than Harry had ever seen him—Sirius undoubtedly being the reason for that. Ever since his friend had been freed from Azkaban, Remus seemed healthier and happier than he had ever been. That wasn't to say he was unhappy before, but having a piece of your past that you thought was long gone come back into your life has lasting effects.

"When are you getting dressed?" Remus questioned, noticing Harry's lack of formality.

"I was just going now." Harry shrugged, turning his back and heading down the hall. "Plus," He called out. "It's still only noon, I have three hours." Sirius and Remus smiled, taking a seat on the couch, as they waited for Harry to get ready.

Harry turned on the faucet to the shower, and ducked under the hot water that sprayed on his back. He allowed it to rush over him, relieving him of his nervous tension that had sprouted over the morning. It wasn't cold feet; he knew that because he wanted to marry Nymphadora. It was just nerves that the never-ending question of 'Will he be a good husband?' brought about. He ran a lathered up hand through his wet hair, cleaning it and making it smell like strawberries. A few minutes later, he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his body. He glanced at the clock, noticing that he had actually spent a little under a half an hour in the shower: it felt more like five minutes to him.

The wizard ran his wand through his dark, black hair, drying it off and straightening it out using the same charms Sirius had used on his own. Sirius hair was longer than his, going past his shoulders—Harry's just made it to his shoulders—but Harry's was naturally unruly, where as Sirius' was straight. Eventually it was dry and straight enough to be pulled back into a loose ponytail, and fastened with a hunter green tie that would match his top robe.

He tossed on a black pair of trousers that were akin to muggle tuxedo pants; it even had the strip of silk braiding down the side, as well. Then he buttoned up a white dress shirt that had a pleated front, and tucked it into the pants, making sure it was even all around. He wrapped a green cummerbund around his waist, making sure it was flat and wrinkle free. He tied his green bowtie around his neck, using the full mirror that was in the corner of his room to make sure it was straight. He then reached into his jewelry box and pulled out the ring Tonks had given him, and the pocket watch the Tonks' had gifted to him just the day before. He slipped the ring onto his right ring finger, and then fastened the pocket watch to his belt loop, making sure it was visible for all to see.

He looked down at the last remaining article of clothing that he had laid on his bed. Reaching down to pick it up, he put on his single breasted, green frock coat, which had silver trim, and black fastenings. Green was a color that had always made him look best; it brought out his eyes, and showed just how green they were. If he could change Ravenclaw's colors, he'd switch them for Slytherin's since, in his opinion, green, silver were a lot better than blue and bronze. He kept his jacket open, liking how it looked to him as he stared at himself in the mirror. Smiling, he turned and walked out of the room, whistling an easy tune all the while.

"About time!" Remus chuckled, rising to his feet from his seat on the couch. "It only took you an hour; geeze, you're worst than a woman…and Sirius." He muttered, flicking his eyes over to his friend who just grimaced in response.

"Better not say that in front of Tonks." Harry grinned, playing with his ring, almost nervously. "How long did it take you to get ready, anyway?" He asked Sirius.

"About as long as it took you." Sirius shrugged. "You look good, kid. But what is with your obsession with green?" He laughed, noticing over the past weeks that the man wore green almost all of the time. Whether it was muggle clothes, or wizarding wear, they always had a tinge of green in them.

"Shall we?" Harry said, ignoring Sirius' crack about his clothes.

"Harry, listen," Sirius said, slowly, his face losing the smile that was just there. "I know this is your day, but there's something I want to say. I'm so proud of you. You kept me alive while I was in Azkaban. You gave me thoughts that the Dementors couldn't possibly take away from me; they were too happy, too good. Every time the Dementors would suck them up, they would come back an hour later. Sure, I was driven mad with hate for Pettigrew, but you kept me from the brink. And…I just wanted you to know that."

"It means a lot that you were able to be here, Sirius." Harry replied, giving his godfather a sad smile. "I guess…I guess it was fate that you got out just a month before my marriage. I'm happy that I got to know you these last few weeks, and now I know why you were my father's best friend." They both reached in and gave each other a hug, happy that they had gotten to meet. Harry was starting to consider Sirius the father figure that he had lacked in his life: Dumbledore was a grandfather to him, Remus was an uncle, and Ted was someone he could count on, but he didn't have a father-like man in his life until Sirius came.

The trio apparated out to the manor a few minutes later, appearing on the well-beaten dirt path. Harry's green robe flailed in the springtime breeze as he entered his estate, heading towards the area where the ceremony would be. The altar was positioned so the spectators would see the coastline and the Atlantic Ocean as a backdrop. As he neared, he saw three figures sitting in three of the white chairs in the back, laughing about something. They, of course, were Viktor, Cedric, and Roger; who were each decked out in silk robes of the finest make. They were more expensive than Remus' and Sirius', making the jaws of the pair drop. They both sighed, knowing that this was just the tip of the iceberg in a day filled with wizards trying to outdo the other.

The guests began to arrive in the living room, through either a portkey—which all invitations were—or through the floo network. Viktor and Roger stood outside the doors, ushering everyone to the back yard, where Remus and Sirius guided them to their seats. Harry walked around the chairs, greeting everyone as they sat down; some he knew well, some he didn't, but it was only polite. The guests were dressed for the event; each wearing the finest robes money could buy. There were reds, blues, greens, blacks, pinks, and purples; all the colors of the spectrum were represented.

"Theo! Daphne!" Harry grinned, waving to his friends as he headed over to them. They were both elegantly dressed in robes, rich in color, and emblazoned in golden trim. "Glad you could make it."

Theo laughed, wrapping his arm around his wife, lovingly. "Daphne heard about our exploits at your bachelor party; she was in fits for an hour." He said, giving Harry a lopsided grin, which seemed to make his scrunched, rabbit-like face handsomer. He was tall and weedy, having much less mass than Harry did, being less stout.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the woman. "Is that so? Well, I heard about your activities at Tonks' party, as well. Shall I tell Theo them, hm Daph?" He asked, playfully.

Daphne rolled her eyes, hitting Harry on the arm. She had a small, flat nose, hazel eyes, brown hair, and a face decked out with a few freckles. She was lean and short, being just barely up to Theo's shoulder, who was a few inches shorter than Harry. "You look great, by the way." She said, nodding in acceptance.

"Thanks." Harry replied, giving the woman a kiss on the cheek. "I should be going, though. I'll come by after the ceremony." He turned and headed to a group of Ministry employees that were standing behind the chairs. "Minister Bones, glad you could make it." Harry said politely, as he shook her hand.

"Mr. Potter," Minister Bones nodded, a small smile on her usually stoic and professional features. She was a broad, square-jawed witch, with very short gray hair, thick eyebrows and a monocle. "This is the biggest event in the British wizarding community for this month, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"It's an honor, Madam Bones." Harry nodded, showing her to a seat, and then headed over to where he saw the Weasley twins were. "Fred, George." He said, nodding to each respectively. Then turned his attention to their dates, who had sweet smiles on their faces. "Angelina, Katie, it's great to see you."

Dumbledore and McGonagall came strolling out of the manor, each wearing a small smile. Dumbledore had on purple robes, with planets and shooting stars on them, while McGonagall wore red tartan robes with a wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat. "Potter," McGonagall nodded, when Harry came up to her. "Herald gives his best wishes, but he can't attend, as you know."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, saddened that McGonagall's nephew, Herald McGonagall, a powerful wizard, couldn't come due to business he had. The pair had corresponded while Harry was in his later years of Hogwarts, and had finally met when Harry traveled before his seventh year; Herald had been twice the wizard Harry expected. Harry waved to them, and left, going over to another group of friends.

"Wayne, Lilyre." Harry greeted, shaking his friend's hands. "About time you guys showed up, a little late, don't you think?" He joked, looking at the timepiece that the Tonks' had given him. Their dates were two girls that had been in Hufflepuff a year younger than Harry; they were pretty and slender, and both hailed from a pureblooded family named Spungen, cousins of one another.

"You know us Hufflepuffs," Lilyre smiled, gesturing to the group. "We'll always come, we just would rather come as a group, so we have to wait for the girls to get ready." That earned him a playful slap in the stomach from his date.

"Mr. Potter." A voice said, as a finger tapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry turned around, wondering whom it was. His green eyes met the amber ones of Barty Crouch: he looked gaunt, pale, and sweaty. His appearance was a far cry from his usually neat exterior. "Congratulations."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at his state, but didn't say anything, knowing that Barty Crouch prided himself on his presentation—that, or with the euphoria the day gave him, he failed to really notice it. "Mr. Crouch, thank you for coming." Crouch gave a small, tired smile, and walked away, heading over to a group of Ministry officials that were talking off to the side, near the chairs. Barty Crouch had helped Harry out of a predicament a few years back, when the younger wizard was traveling around the world, and the two had had a professional relationship ever since, even with Harry knowing what the man had done to Sirius twenty years ago.

Moving on, Harry greeted the rest of his guests, and before he knew it, he was standing on the altar, waiting for Tonks and Ted to appear. Music was playing in the background, though the band was unseen, and the songs carried from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Then, suddenly, as if on cue, the music changed, as Ted and Nymphadora stepped onto the long, purple carpet. The carpet, which ran from behind the chairs all the way up to the gazebo-like altar, was made of a purple felt and laden with white rose petals.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat as Tonks came into view. With her long brown hair done up in long, loose curls, and her tiara set on her head, she was a sight to be seen. She had on her floaty, silky white robes that hung off her shoulders elegantly; revealing tanned and toned shoulders and unblemished skin. Her cheeks were pink, and were touched up with makeup, as if done by a muggle. He gave her a small smile as they made eye contact, which grew into a large grin as she began to walk down the aisle with her father. Soon enough, she was just a few steps away from him, as she stepped up onto the raised platform, gazing at no one but Harry. Her father gave Harry a smile before walking over to his place in the front row next to his wife.

The ceremony would only last around a half an hour, as the warlock who over saw it, Declan Tennyson, only read from ancient manuscripts and tales of old. So there they stood, looking into each other's eyes as Declan continued to speak, inching through the ceremony at a slow pace. Other than Declan's voice, the only thing that could be heard was the waves crashing on the rocks in the distance, as if the ocean was a great beast in a deep slumber. The setting, being outside of their house, near a beach, and with the sun shinning high above, couldn't be any better. Finally, the vows came, and the pair said their peace with such conviction and truth that their love, which they both promised was eternal, was almost palpable.

"Here before witnesses, Nymphadora and Harry have sworn their vows towards each other. With this cord, I bind them to those vows." Declan Tennyson recited, flicking his wand and conjuring a rope that wrapped itself loosely around the couple's entwined hands. "Heart to thee, body to thee, always and forever, so let it be." He finished off, smiling at the pair. "You may, as muggles say, kiss the bride." Harry grinned and leaned in, kissing Tonks tenderly and lovingly. The euphoria of kissing her as her husband for the first time was something that Harry had not expected, so after pulling away, he still had his eyes closed as the attendants began to clap in congratulations. The golden balloons that were scattered about the area bursted, releasing confetti and snow-white doves that flew high into the sky, disappearing into the orange-gold disk that was the sun.

"Shall we, Mrs. Potter?" Harry said, holding out his hand for Tonks to take. He looked down at her with his green eyes showing nothing but love. His beautiful green eyes, so much alike his mother Lily's, were alight with the flames of passion.

"Let's, Mr. Potter." Tonks replied, wrapping her arm around Harry's, and taking off down the carpet-laden pathway, slowly. They smiled and said their thanks as the people they passed whispered words of encouragement and congratulations. They headed out of the rows of chairs, and to the side of the house, where pictures would be taken.

"If you could all just head to the back, there are drinks and other small food items ready for your enjoyment. Dinner will be ready in just a little while." Cedric said, making his voice loud with magic. "Oh, and you can walk through the house, Roger and Viktor will direct the way." He added, putting his wand up to his throat and quieting himself. The wizard smiled as the attendants began to file out to the back, where the reception was being held.


	17. Wooden dance floor, wooden brooms

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Barty Crouch wasn't fighting off the Imperius, he's sick with a wizarding disease, but he refuses to acknowledge it. As for what the disease is, I haven't named it, but its bad.

S/N 2: I'm sorry, but this chapter was the hardest one to write. I'm going to take a week off, so you won't get another new chapter till the Wednesday after next, rather than the weekly update. I've run into a fork in the road for a character, and I don't know what I want to do with him, so I need to plot out his story, rather than just write (its the character that I mentioned I added into my story in a chapter way back when because of what he was in Death Hallows I couldn't help myself). Don't worry, though, because the chapter that I release when I finally do, will be the beginning of the real plot of the story, and the last before the action starts.

Chapter 17: Wooden dance floor, wooden brooms

An hour later found Harry and Tonks in the middle of the dance floor, taking their first dance as a married couple. As the Fluting Apollos—a wizarding band—played, the pair stared in each other's eyes, as if they were the only ones in the room. "Are you going to love me forever?" Tonks whispered into Harry's ear as they danced.

"A little late to be asking me now, don't you think?" Harry said back. She stuck her tongue out at him, an action she always did when he reverted to his dry sense of humor self. As the song ended, and another began, the rest of the attendees strolled up to the dance floor themselves, swaying to the music. Harry closed his eyes, listening to the music, though he was hearing a different tone than the other guests.

His tone gave him great hope and warmth. It gave him courage, though he already had it inside himself. He recognized it, even with having heard it only once in Dumbledore's office, and that was a long time ago: the phoenix song. He didn't know how, or why, but he knew it wasn't coming from Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, nor could anyone else hear it. It seemed to be emanating from his ebony wand, as if the very phoenix feather from inside was just as happy, just as emotional as he was. He shook his head, pushing the sound to the back of his mind, turning his attention back to Tonks, his new bride.

Remus and Sirius were both dancing with their dates, Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance, respectively. Remus had been with Hestia on and off for a while now, but they never really went any forward with it; it was a very stagnate relationship. Sirius and Emmeline, on the other hand, had been on a few dates already, and Sirius had only been out of Azkaban a little over a month. The way they were going, they'd be married in year. After two more songs, the Apollos stopped playing, the dinner having been served.

"Can I have your attention please?" Cedric said, midway through the meal; his voice was loud and commanding. He tapped his wand against his glass of Bubblin's Giggle Water, the drink of wizards that was akin to muggle champagne. Seeing everyone's eyes pivot onto him, he grinned, gesturing to Harry and Tonks. "As most of you know, I've been friends with Harry for around eight years; since he was in his second year of Hogwarts, and I was in my fifth. Admittedly, before I got to know him, I, like most of the wizarding world, thought of him as 'The Boy Who Lived'. But over a few months during our respective school years, me and him became the closest of friends, and now I only think of him as my best friend. It's hard being his friend sometimes because he's just so bloody good at everything." He laughed, winking at Harry. "And now, now that he's married the love of his life, someone who makes him so happy every time he sees her, it's going to be next to impossible. But, alas, we all have our burdens to bear. I could stand up here and tell you stories about the adventures of our dear Potty wotty—and trust me, I have a lot—but I think his reputation speaks for himself. So, to make a long story short, Tonks," His eyes flicked to the metamorphmagus. "Take care of him for me, will you? To Harry and Nymphadora, may their marriage be happy and as eternal as their love is."

"To Harry and Nymphadora!" The crowd cheered, downing their respective drinks. There was an uproar of noise, and a wave of energy ran through the attendees, as if Cedric's speech had gave them the okay to go nuts.

"Hey," Viktor said, tapping Sirius on the shoulder as they sat at their table. "Vho are they?" He questioned, gesturing to a group of four people, off to the side, getting something to drink; there were two men and two women.

Sirius followed his gaze over to the group, smiling when he saw who it was. "Those are the Nigels, my and Andromeda's relatives: Austrinus Nigel, and his date; and Cepheus Nigel, and his date." Viktor nodded, shrugging, having not seen them before.

The rest of the night passed by with nothing but laughter and joy. The newlyweds were as happy as could be, and danced the night away until it was time for them to leave on their semi-honeymoon. They had planned to have a real honeymoon after the World Cup, but they needed something to go to on their wedding night. The rest of the people at the reception, however, continued to dance and drink, having a good time until Cedric and Roger pushed them all into the fireplace to go back home; most of them being half-drunk.

"Nymphie," Harry smiled, walking in with a tray of treats, as Tonks laid on the bed, looking up at him with her natural gray eyes. She had never spent so long in her natural appearance since before her Hogwarts time, but on her wedding day, since Harry liked it so much, she was willing to stay in it however long he wanted. "I got you a muggle-like spa package for tomorrow morning, that way your body can feel as beautiful as you are."

"Careful, Mr. Potter, flattery will get you everywhere." Tonks smirked, resting her chin on her hands as she watched him walk towards her: his eyes pouring into hers all the while.

"I hope so, Mrs. Potter." He replied in a low voice, jumping onto the bed, and pulling her onto him, kissing her passionately.

Sunday passed, and before Harry knew it, he was apparating to the Puddlemere United quidditch pitch, with a smile on his face, and his practice robes on. Entering the locker room, he gave all his teammates a wave, as he placed his things in to his locker, grabbed his broom—a firebolt that he had brought with him since he had yet to get his new broom—and jogged out; his team following closely behind him. His coach flipped his wand, and a whistling sound rang out through the area, calling them all to him. There was around fifteen of them, the starters and the backups. As Harry neared the coach, he saw a wizard hand him an envelope and run off, leaving the coach confused. The coach looked down, reading the letter with a small frown.

"Harry," He said, as the player neared him. Then, he checked the letter over again, making sure he wasn't wrong. "You…you have to go. You've been traded."

"Traded?" Harry questioned, confusedly. He heard the murmuring of his team, but paid no attention, wanting to know what was up instead. "What do you mean by 'traded'?"

"What I mean is," The coach replied, slowly. "That you're being forced to play for Wales by order of Ludo Bagman. I had…I had hoped that he would have changed his mind, but I guess he didn't."

"What? No," Harry yelled, losing himself in his anger. "You can't do this! I've played on the English team for eight years. You can't just throw me to Wales."

"It's not my call, Harry. The Ministry declared that you have to play for them, or you can't play at all. It was okay to play for us when you lived in England, but now that you live in Wales, we can't just push it under the rug." The coach said, sadly. "Listen, you're Welsh, aren't you? You should have been playing for them from the get go. And, plus, the Ministry talked to the Wales team already, they have a spot for you. That's why they didn't tell you before hand, because you're safe: you have a position. Hell, being who you are, you can probably have any position you want."

"That's not the point." Harry growled. "I've played with you guys, our team, for two world cups. We have history together. I'm proud to be Welsh, very proud actually, that's why I built my home there, but still…I thought we were a team."

"Harry," The coach whispered. "I'm sorry. I tried to fight it, I did. But the Ministry made up their minds. We want you on the team, it's not like we're forcing you off."

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead with his left hand. His eyes puffed up with tears, as he looked up at his former team. "I understand. Well, I guess I'll go here then." He said, flashing them the letter that told him about his 'trade' to Wales. "Keep in touch?" He smiled as they nodded sadly, each disappointed they wouldn't be playing with each other anymore. "Good luck. I'll be rooting for you. After all, you got a title to defend." He apparated out, leaving the English team alone. They all looked at each other awkwardly, before jumping onto their brooms, and flying up in the air to begin practice.

Harry appeared in the Ministry's apparation point, his brow furrowed. He walked briskly down the hall, nodding to all the people who said hi to him, seemingly on a mission. He jumped into the lift, pressed the button, and waited, impatiently, as it jerked to a halt. He zipped out when the doors opened, racing down the hall and entering the Magical Games and Sports department office.

Immediately, without invitation, Harry barged into the head's office. There, sitting behind a desk was Ludo Bagman, who jumped up at the intrusion, having not expected it. His eyes went wide when he saw who it was, and his face became beet red. "Harry Potter, so nice to see you."

"_Shut up, Bagman." _Harry hissed in parseltongue, making Ludo shrink back in fear, clearly shaking by the display—even if he didn't know what Harry said, hearing parseltongue was scary enough. "Don't screw me over again, Bagman." He growled, staring at Ludo with fire in his eyes. "Because if you do, you'll be out of a job."

"Harry…I…" Ludo began, stumbling over his words. His assistant stood at the doorway, watching the exchange in apprehension.

"Save it." Harry sneered, turning and walking out of the room.

Nymphadora yawned awake as a stream of sunlight crept through the bronze curtains, sending its beams into her eyes. She rolled over, bringing the covers above her, hoping to block the sun and get another few hours of sleep. That, however, wasn't to be, for ten minutes later she kicked the covers off of herself and got out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She scampered over to the bathroom, her barefoot flopping against the cold, hard wood, and took a quick shower. After getting dressed, and drying her hair, she headed down to the kitchen for some breakfast. Sitting on the table was a plate of muffins, a jug of pumpkin juice, and the morning's Daily Prophet. On the front page was a picture of Harry on his broom, and in big, bold letters was:

United Kingdom Quidditch teams to start practice today Harry Potter to play for Wales! 

_In a surprisingly well-kept secret, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports Ludo Bagman, announced today that Harry Potter, both Chaser and Seeker for the English national team, would be playing for Wales this World Cup. Mr. Bagman had this to say: _

"_Due to circumstances within the Potter family, we felt in order to keep the dignity and equality of the United Kingdom teams, he had to switch to Wales, which is his rightful place. We wish Mr. Potter the best with his new team, and we know all of the wizarding community of the British Isles will be cheering for him."_

_There is no word yet on just what position—for he plays both Chaser and Seeker—Mr. Potter will be playing on the Welsh team, but we know he'll do great. We have heard, however, that Welsh witches and wizards erupted in parties when they heard Mr. Potter would be playing for them; they showed enthusiasm in Welsh quidditch that hasn't been seen since the brutal death of 'Dangerous Dai' Llewellyn._

_For the complete story of 'Dangerous Dai' Llewellyn turn to page 6. _

_For information on the Welsh, English, Scottish, and Irish teams turn to page 8._

"Uh-oh," Tonks whispered to herself, shaking her head. "He's not going to be happy about that." Sighing, she grabbed a muffin, buttered it up, and ate it, knowing that it would be a long day for Harry.

Harry arrived in the apparation point for the Holyhead Harpies stadium, located in Holyhead, Wales. Seeing people flying about in the air, he hurried his pace, not wanting to seem like he thought himself better than them by arriving late. The coach saw him, and gave a whistle, signaling for the others to land and come over. Six people landed, three girls and three guys, all carrying their brooms over their shoulders as the walked.

"Harry Potter!" The coach said, enthusiastically. He reached out, grabbed Harry's hand, and shook it, gripping it tightly. Harry returned the shake, tentatively, having seen the faces of the players over the coach's shoulder; one looked thoroughly displeased. "I was wondering when you would show."

"Yeah," Harry replied, moving his eyes over to the coach's. "I didn't get the letter until ten minutes ago and I came straight away." Then, turning to the group, he said, "Hey, I'm Harry."

"Think that just because you're a big shot you can show up late, do you, Potter?" A witch with dark skin and short dark brown hair sneered, looking at Harry with contempt. "As far as I'm concerned, you're nothing but a mercenary, not a true member of this team."

"Calm down, Gwenog." A man ordered, giving Harry a small, encouraging smile. "He's Welsh, he's one of us." He gave Harry a small wave and said, "I'm Taffy Timms, a Chaser."

"If he's Welsh, Taffy," Gwenog hissed, turning her scowl onto the blond Chaser. "Why wasn't he playing with us from the start? Why did he play with England at all?" She questioned with icy venom. Harry didn't expect that warm of a welcome, but he never expected someone to loathe his like she did.

"Because I had already been on the team when I found out I was Welsh." Harry answered, which made Gwenog open her mouth a few times then close it, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't think of the right words. "Taffy? Short for Dafydd, or…?" Harry asked Taffy, interestedly. So far, with the introduction of Taffy and Gwenog, the members of the team seemed to all have Welsh names.

"Yeah," Taffy nodded, politely. He had spiky blond hair, and hazel eyes, with a few bruises on his face. "But I go by Taffy pretty much exclusively."

"I'm Dillon Whisp, another Chaser." A tall, lean man said, grinning pleasantly. He had a deep scar under his right eye, clearly from getting hit with a bludger one too many times.

A woman, short and skinny, yet toned, stepped up, giving a small wave. "Aderyn Clagg, the last Chaser." Harry nodded, guessing that he would be playing Seeker this World Cup. He didn't mind it, as it allowed him greater freedom in the air; plus, he'd get to play against Viktor if their teams would meet in the Cup.

"Potter," A familiar face to Harry said. Harry turned his attention to the woman who spoke, his eyes going wide immediately.

"Demelza!" Harry gasped, seeing the woman for the first time. He hadn't seen her, Demelza Robins, since his time at Hogwarts, when she played for the Gryffindor team: she was a great player and a good witch who loved competition. She was a few years younger than him, so they only got to play against each other for two years but it was more than enough time for them to earn each other's respect. "You're a Beater now, I presume?"

"Yup, made the transfer after you left Hogwarts." Demelza nodded, flicking her bat into the air and catching it.

"I'm the Keeper, Owen Keitch." A stout man with a bulbous nose said. He wasn't very tall, but had huge muscles, making his presence into an imposing one.

"So I guess that makes me the Seeker." Harry laughed, hoping to ease the tension and get off on the right foot. His eyes moved over the team, stopping on Dillon: their last names stirred something in his memory, as if he had heard them before. "Whisp? As in the author of 'Quidditch through the Ages?'" Harry asked, cocking a quizzical eyebrow.

Dillon smiled, nodding in agreement. "My grandfather."

Harry turned his attention to the other Chasers. "Clagg, as in Elfrida Clagg?" He asked, a smile forming on his face. It was amazing how richly diverse the Welsh team was. "The witch who, acting as the Chieftainess of the Warlock's Council, outlawed the use of the snidget in Quiddtich games back in the 1300s?"

"Which then forced Bowman Wright to invent the Snitch." Aderyn finished, glowing with pride. "I'm a direct descendent of Elfrida."

"And Keitch, huh? Inventor of the braking charm? Played for the Falcons in the 20's?" Harry questioned, already knowing the answer. "Pretty famous team we have here."

"Only gets more famous with you on it." Gwenog growled, rolling her eyes. She couldn't stand the thought of Harry Potter coming onto her team and taking it over; put plainly, she was jealous and nervous that her thunder would be stolen. Being over thirty-five, it was probably her last go around in the World Cup, and she wanted to be the star, not have Harry Potter be it. "Devlin's here." She said, wanting to divert attention away from Harry and gesturing to the wizard that was walking towards them from the other side of the pitch, a trunk levitating behind him.

**Author's note:** In case there was any confusion, Harry's wand is completely different from the one he has in the real stories: it's made form a different wood, it has a different quality, a different length, and the Phoenix who gave the feather is different (this Phoenix has only given one feather, which is the one in Harry's wand.) Harry's wand stats: Ebony, 12 ¾, and limber, single phoenix tail feather: good for charm work. It's a very powerful wand.

As for the wand Harry has in the real books, it is in this story, and you'll be seeing it sometime.


	18. And so it begins!

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Tonks is a Hufflepuff, as said by JKR. Sorry for the wait for this chapter, but I needed to get some planning for the last few chapters done.

S/N 2: Yes, the title has a double meaning: the Quidditch cup is starting and the story, too. Meh, I don't really like these three chapters (the last one, this one, and the next one) because Quidditch is so hard to write, and I'm trying to keep you entertained but it just comes out strained.

Chapter 18: And so it begins!

"There, there, sorry I'm late." An aged man with slicked back black hair and a long, pointed nose said. He wore a brown leather jacket that had a tail that ran to his knees. Devlin Whitehorn was the creator of the Nimbus brooms, and had designed everyone the company had ever released. "Now, Harry Potter, since I couldn't talk to you personally about your broom, I took the specifics from Bryson Jewkes' notes." He muttered, looking down at a piece of parchment that was in his hands.

"So you're making brooms for us, like Bryson was for team England?" Harry said, gleefully, having loved the Nimbus brooms; a Nimbus 2001 was his very first broom that he had bought for the Ravenclaw quidditch team that he played on in Hogwarts, starting with his second year.

Devlin nodded, smiling. Then, reaching behind him, he opened up the trunk and took out a brown broom. The broom had cursive golden lettering on it, labeling it the Nimbus 2020. He backed away from the trunk, gesturing for the team to take their own. Harry grabbed the one that said Potter, and hopped onto it, immediately levitating a few feet in the air. Harry took off on it with the rest, the wind rushing over him, the sun beaming onto his skin.

The Nimbus 2020 was fast, real fast. Being even faster than the Firebolt, Harry loved the feeling that it gave him: freedom and excitement. He zigzagged all around, testing out the limits of the broom, wanting and needing to see what it could do. The breaking charm was extraordinary, allowing the flier to stop on a dime, and preventing any recoil. Its overall design was comfortable, granting one to stay on a broom for long periods of time. As Harry landed, the coach calling them back in, he couldn't help but think the Nimbus 2020 was the best, most advanced broom he had ever ridden, and he couldn't wait to test it out in a match.

And it was a week later that found Harry laying stomach down on his bed, groaning lowly. The door to his bedroom opened up, and Nymphadora walked in wearing her Auror robes, having just come back from work. Seeing Harry, she cocked an eyebrow and rushed over to him, worriedly. "Aw, what's the matter, baby?" Tonks cooed, taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

"Bludger nailed me." Harry muttered, flinching as Tonks ran a hand across his bare back. He turned his head and watched as Tonks took off her Auror robes, and threw on a pair of baggy gray muggle sweatpants and a black muggle tank top. She grabbed her wand and walked back over to him, gently sitting down on the bed. "Ow." He cried, as he tried to roll over.

"Stay where you are." Tonks ordered, using her hands to keep him on his stomach. "Zeali!" She called out to their house elf, waiting patiently for him to appear.

"You called Zeali, mistress Potter?" The elf said, apparating into the room with a pop. He bowed deeply for a second, his gaze on the floor before looking up, smiling happily.

"Yes," Tonks said politely, a childlike tone to her voice. "Can you please get me two glasses of sweet lemonade that Harry likes so much? Oh, and two glasses of chocolate milk!" She added the last part with a grin. The lemonade was for his fever, his body was extremely warm, and the second was to give him some energy, for he looked very lethargic.

"Zeali will do that, mistress Potter." Zeali nodded enthusiastically. Disappearing with a pop, the elf went to get what Tonks asked him to.

"What are you doing?" Harry croaked, cracking his neck to see his wife. There was a big bruise, black and blue as the night sky, on his back, just below his shoulder. It was round and about the size of a melon, looking like an eggplant.

"Shh." Tonks whispered, kissing him on the cheek. Grabbing her wand, she said, "Estuscera." Her wand glowed orange for a second, then turn back to its natural wood color, though it now had a glossy gleam to it. She placed it on his back, and began to roll it up and down as to massage it. "Contremisco." She recited, making her wand vibrate soothingly. "Feel good?" She grinned, continuing to massage his aching back.

"Mm." Harry moaned, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling. Tonks was the master of strange and almost useless charms, but a massaging charm was something he could get use to. Usually when she massaged him it was with her hands, but that wasn't for therapeutic reasons as this was. His eyes flicked up to her as he felt her wand leave his back; Zeali had apparated in with their drinks, and she was grabbing a glass of the lemonade.

"Here, take a sip, baby, you're burning up." She ordered, holding a straw up to his mouth. He guzzled down the cold, yellow liquid, needing some relief from the fever that he was running. "Zeali, do you think you could put a cooling charm around the room?" Tonks asked the elf, who nodded and snapped his fingers. Immediately, the room dropped a few degrees, becoming increasingly colder. "Thank you, Zeali." Tonks said, making the elf bow and apparate away, leaving the pair alone.

The next months passed relatively slowly. Harry turned twenty-two, threw a big birthday party at his house, and had a good time. Sirius and Emmeline had started to see each other exclusively, exciting everybody with the prospect of another wedding: one that would be just as big and extravagant as Harry's. They knew Sirius had wanted to find someone, someone to settle down with, and everyone was glad that he was happy, hoping that his Azkaban memories would slip from his mind: though they all knew that was pushing it. Even so, even with having spent so many years in Azkaban, the prison known as hell on Earth, Sirius showed the same carefree and mischievous nature he had as a teen, when James was still alive.

And Tonks and Harry had slipped into marriage perfectly, loving and living each second. In their minds, it wasn't all that different from dating, except they saw a lot more of each other; which wasn't a bad thing at all. Harry had took a leave of absence from his Hitwizard duties for the time being, though he did come in when they needed him to help out in catching a wizard named Donahue, who had cursed his muggle next door neighbor. Unfortunately, when the Hitwizards went to arrest him, he didn't want to go down without a fight, and tried taking them all out: he failed miserably, of course, being far outclassed by the five elite Hitwizards that had been there.

Before anyone knew it, the day came where Harry and the group would be traveling to Sweden via a portkey. Having ten tickets for each game he played in, Harry decided that Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, Ted, Roger, Lisa, Cedric, Nymphadora, Hermione, and Viktor would receive them—Viktor would give his tickets, for when he was playing, to the same people, with Harry receiving the last one. There were others that deserved tickets in Harry's opinion, good friends that would have loved to go, but there were only so many that he had had. So it was the eleven of them, plus Mr. and Mrs. Krum, Viktor's parents, that made the trip to Sweden, intent on watching a few good games of Quidditch, hoping that their teams would win the whole cup.

Arriving in a meadow, the group of eleven looked around at their surroundings, noticing that other groups, witches and wizards, were appearing too. There was a flurry of different languages flowing through the air, ranging from English to Japanese, Portuguese to German. It was a hodgepodge of different nationalities, cultures, and ethnicities: a true union of the wizarding world. The wizards and witches were all smiling, an energy about them that was clearly excitement for the upcoming quidditch matches.

They headed over to their campsites; four of them, all marked with numbers, showing which plot was which. Harry, Cedric, Viktor, and Roger all took out their respective tents, flicking them open with a simple muttering of "Erecto". Harry and Nymphadora, and Ted and Andromeda would be staying in Harry's tent; Viktor and Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Krum would be staying in Viktor's; Roger and Lisa would fill up Roger's tent; and, finally, Cedric, Sirius, and Remus would stay in Cedric's, like it was their very own bachelor pad.

After a big, family meal, and a discussion about tomorrow's games—Wales was playing Japan, and Bulgaria was playing France—everyone shuffled back to their respective tents, intent on getting a good night's sleep. Harry dreamed about golden snitches and bludgers, as if his mind was going over a game plan. The next morning, while the others ate breakfast in Viktor's tent, Harry rested on the couch, closing his eyes in peacefulness. Then, suddenly, the fireplace off to the side sprung to life in green flames, and out stepped Kingsley Shacklebolt, looking tired.

"Hey Shack, what's up?" Harry said, opening his eyes, waving to his friend. Unfortunately, Harry didn't have enough tickets for Shacklebolt to come with them, but the man didn't mind, having seen Harry in the last World Cup, and knowing that he'd be able to watch the games in the pensieve after the tournament was all said and done.

"Barty Crouch is dead." Kingsley replied, grimly. His eyes flicked up to Harry's, who stared back at him, his brows furrowed. "His house elf found him dead in his bed yesterday morning."

"Naturally, right?" Harry questioned, wanting to know if he the Auror would have a case to handle over the matter. He knew Crouch was getting up in age, having been born in 1918, though that wasn't all that old in wizarding standards. His parents, Charis and Caspar Crouch, were born in 1900, and his mother Charis was Dorea Potter's, Harry's paternal grandmother, sister.

"So it would seem." Kingsley shrugged, either not knowing or caring. "He had been getting sicker and sicker ever since Sirius was found innocent. You remember the way he looked at your wedding, right? How he was pale and clammy?" He said, thinking back a few months ago to Harry's wedding day.

"I didn't think much of it, to be honest." Harry replied, looking away. Then, turning back, "With him the Crouch family is dead, right?" He questioned, wondering if the man had had any other family. The Crouchs were an old and noble pureblood family, on the same level of the Potters and the Longbottoms, being looked at as good and honest. He knew Barty had had two sisters, both a few years younger than him, but he didn't know what had happened to them: their fates weren't on the House of Black family tree. Either way, however, the male bloodline of the Crouchs' was dead.

"He only had one son, and as we both know, junior died in Azkaban fifteen years ago." Kingsley answered, remembering the day Crouch's son was found out a Death Eater. It had ruined the wizard's chances of becoming the next Minister of Magic. The man went from a shoe-in to an outcast overnight, a feat almost unheard of. "I got to go, though, Harry. I just wanted to let you know." He said, turning around to the fireplace and picking up some floo powder.

"See you, Shack." Harry said, watching as the man flooed out, presumably back to the office. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the couch, where he put his feet up and rested for his game that was five hours away.

A pale man, no older than forty, with straw-colored hair and brown eyes, wrapped his black cloak around him. It wouldn't do to be seen by someone, Merlin forbid a wizard who could identify him. He doubted many people remembered him, let alone actually knowing what he looked like after all these years, but one couldn't be too careful. He had been traveling for a day, and had just made it into continental Europe, where he was just days away from his destination: Albania. Continuing on, he disapparated a few miles away, knowing that in his weakened state he couldn't push himself. He would regain his power after the lingering effects of the Imperius curse left him, and it was a considerable power that he had, it was only a matter of time.

Later that day, the group went and watched Bulgaria beat France, Viktor having caught the snitch. After a brief lunch, they headed back over to the stadium, Harry's match starting soon. They were all decked out in Wales' apparel; even Hermione, who was vehemently rooting for Bulgaria, and in turn her husband to win, was wearing Welsh colors. No one, however, inside or outside of their group was showing Welsh pride more than Nymphadora, as the metamorphmagus was allowed a greater girth of opportunities due to her power.

Tonks' hair was a brilliant green color, spiked up at all ends. Down the center of it was a white strip of hair, akin to a skunk. Her eyes were a bright red, showing off the final color of the Welsh uniforms: green, red, and white. To top off the look, she wore a replica of Harry's jersey, and had his number painted in green on both of her cheeks. "Let's go Harry!" She screamed, the second she was in the stadium. The others smiled, making their way to their seats, their eyes roaming about the various wizards and witches from around the world. A few minutes later, the group was settled into their seats, waiting for the match to start.

"Is Japan any good?" Cedric questioned, sitting directly behind Tonks. Hermione, Tonks, Remus, and Sirius were sitting in the row below, with an empty seat for Viktor right next to Hermione. Then above them was Cedric, Roger, Lisa, Andromeda, and Ted.

"Viktor said their beaters were quite strong, but other than that, no." Hermione answered, turning around to see Cedric. They whispered to each other inaudibly, continuing the conversation.

"Over here!" Tonks called out to the snack witch who was walking around the stadium. The witch waddled over towards them, her lips pursed. The tray had a plethora of items, ranging from Fizzing Whizbees to Acid pops. "I'll take a bottle of pumpkin juice, five chocolate frogs, and a box of Bertie Bott's, please." Tonks said, smiling at the witch sweetly.

The witch dug through the tray, grabbing the food items that Tonks had asked for and handing them to the young metamorphmagus. Then, reaching into a small bag that was hooked up to her belt, the snack witch pulled out a glass bottle of pumpkin juice; it's bottle chilled with frost. "That will be fifteen sickles, and three knuts, please." She said, professionally.

Tonks shuffled through her pockets, handing the witch a gold galleon after a few seconds of looking. "Keep the change." She said, as the snack witch beamed, and said thank you. The others got various items, too, and after a few minutes, they were all eating their treats. "Does anyone want a chocolate frog?" Tonks asked, gazing around. When everyone shook their heads, she shrugged, tearing open one of the boxes. She checked out the card, and frowned when it was an Albus Dumbledore; she had a million of them. She took a bite out of the frog, breaking the charm that made it life-like before it jumped out of her hands.

"Shouldn't be long now, right?" Remus murmured, looking down at his timepiece. The match was supposed to start around this time, but sometimes they ran a little late, due to injuries and, sometimes, deaths during the last matches.

"Shouldn't be." Roger replied, looking across the stands to where the Japan fans were screaming out spells, and shooting up sparks of red and white, their colors.

Tonks popped open another chocolate frog box, pulling out the card that laid inside. "Ah, Helga Hufflepuff." Tonks grinned, turning around and showing Cedric. "Hufflepuff!" She yelled out, slapping hands with Cedric, who grinned with pride.

"You were in Hufflepuff?" Sirius questioned, stuffing his mouth with jellybeans. He had thought she was a Gryffindor, never a Hufflepuff.

"Darn-tooten." She replied, stealing one of Sirius' jellybeans. She popped it in her mouth, smiling brightly to him. "Lemon, gross." She gagged, but swallowed the bean regardless. The witch watched as Sirius opened a chocolate frog box, and looked at the card, handing it to her a few seconds later. Tonks giggled, nudging Hermione and showing the card. "Viktor Krum card."

She looked down at it, a small smile gracing her features. She ran a hand over the picture, tenderly. "What did you get?" Hermione asked, taking a bite out of her licorice wand and noticing Tonks opening up another of her chocolate frogs.

"Harry Potter." Tonks replied, watching as Harry stared up at her from within the card. He gave her a wink, then turned and flew off on his broom. Her eyes flicked to the text below the picture, reading what it had to say.

_Harry Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort, is the only known survivor of the killing curse when he did it as a baby. Now, as an adult, he plays Quidditch for the Welsh team, as well as working as a Hitwizard. Potter likes lemonade, chocolate, and melting cake._

"I didn't miss anything, did I?" Viktor inquired, as he slid into the seat next to Hermione; his face was red, and his hair wet, clearly having just gotten out of the shower. Hermione shook her head, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. Then, with a flash of green, a Common Welsh Green dragon, made completely of green flame, flew around the stadium. It did two circuits of the stadium, before it let out a stream of red flames from its nostrils, which bursted out, and the Welsh team appeared from the embers. Then, with another great flash, the dragon blew apart, disintegrating into a hailstorm of shooting stars that zigzagged all about, creating a light show of green, red, and white streaks, before losing power and disappearing.

"The Welsh team, led by their captain, Gwenog Jones!" roared the announcer, as half the stadium erupted into applause: Tonks being the loudest of them all. "And now," The announcer called out, quieting the fans. "The Japanese team!" There were rumbles of thunder, then, in seven flashes of red lightning, the Japanese team appeared, streaking across the stadium with trails of red from behind their brooms. On the Japanese side, a wave emanated from one section, then continued down the line, a sign appearing as it moved. It said 'Go Japan' in Japanese, and it abruptly stopped as it neared the Welsh side of the stadium.

"And now for the introductions for the Welsh team: for our beaters there is Gwenog Jones!" A woman flew high up into the air, and waved, holding a beater bat in her hands. "And Demelza Robins!" Another woman shot up into the air, flipping her beater bat and catching it mid-air. "And the chasers: Dafydd 'Taffy' Timms, Dillon Whisp, and Aderyn Clagg!" The three chasers flew into the air, barrel rolling before stopping next to the beaters. "Owen Keitch is their keeper!" A man flew into the air, and then spun, stopping inches in front of Aderyn's face. "And finally we have their seeker, Harry Potter!" Harry, unlike the others, came from above, swooped down to the ground, and shot back up, flipping as he stopped next to Gwenog. The crowd erupted in applause, showing their support for Wales.

"And they're off!" The announcer screamed out, having introduced the Japanese team and the referee for the match. Everyone watched as the Japanese chasers threw the quaffle between each other, flying down the field, before they chucked it into one of the hoops, scoring the first goal. Meanwhile, Harry and the Japanese seeker hovered high above the field, looking down and searching for the ever-elusive snitch.

Demelza Robins hit one of the bludgers at a Japanese chaser, which forced the wizard to crash into one of his beaters, knocking them both to the ground. As they fell, Aderyn scored with the quaffle, tying the match back up. From the bleachers, Viktor tapped Tonks on the shoulder, pointing to the golden blur that was streaking across the opposite side of the quidditch pitch, and then looked up to Harry, to see if he had seen it too.

Sure enough, Harry had dived down, leaning over his broom and flying his fastest, trying to catch up with the golden snitch. The Japanese seeker took off after him, barely keeping up. As Harry neared the snitch, a bludger came out of nowhere, coming within a foot of his face, making him flip over, so his back was parallel to the ground. This sudden loss of speed gave the Japanese Seeker time to catch up, coming soaring up to Harry, evening up the race to the snitch.

Soon they were just a few feet away, the snitch zigzagging all over, each every way. The Japanese seeker threw his shoulder into Harry, hoping to draw Harry off of his broom, giving him no competition in going after the snitch; Harry was able to keep his balance, and even return the shoulder. Seeing there was no point in trying to stop the other seeker, as both shoulder bumps failed, both leaned over their brooms and flew faster. The wind rushed over them as they sped, their eyes tearing up, turning bloodshot. There was a hush about the stadium as they raced, all eyes on them, the spectators knowing this was it.

They were both so close, close enough to almost reach it, then Harry, throwing all caution to the wind, threw himself off of his broom, diving for the snitch. The snitch, as if it was in slow motion, flew to the side, but Harry's hand was much too quick. Like a snake wrapping its body around prey, Harry's fingers enclosed the golden, bird-like instrument, entrapping it within the hand-made cage. He landed on the ground, hard, his legs flipping over his head, as his body somersaulted to a halt. Dazed, yet smiling, Harry threw his hand up, releasing the snitch, showing the stadium he had caught it.

Immediately, those who were rooting for Wales erupted, screaming out in excitement. Tonks was on her feet, clapping and yelling, a big, wide smile on her face, proud of her husband. The rest of the group was smiling, too, watching the replay of Harry catching the snitch on the giant white wall that hovered in midair across the way. As the cheering stopped, and a hush had overtaken the stadium, the Welsh team's next opponent flashed on the screen: Bulgaria.

Viktor laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Vell, this should be fun." He said, more to himself than to the others. It had been awhile, almost eight years, since the pair had played each other, and Viktor couldn't wait to get on his broom against his good friend. Since Harry was as good of a flier as he was, the man knew he would enjoy the match…he would enjoy it indeed.

AN: From now on whenever I use a spell of my own creation, I'm going to tell you the etymology—I usually use Latin, German, French, and English for them. But like I said before, I don't really like creating my own spells, but I will if the situation calls for it.

**Estuscera:** creates a hot substance. Estus is Latin for heat, and Cera is Latin for wax.

**Contremisco:** shakes or trembles objects. Contremisco is Latin for tremble.


	19. Possession of the sntich

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: The future: love, loss, fighting, redemption, death, and betrayal: which corresponds to what character, I ask? The places that they go to on their honeymoon, baring Salem, and Matreville (which I made up) and Esageard (which is a different spelling of Asgard), are all ghost towns around the world.

S/N 2: I know, this is pretty short, but I promise that next chapter will not only be the longest, but the best as of yet. Trust me when I say that this story is full steam ahead, and just getting better. Oh, and when he said "weeks", he's been searching for about a week and a half, but he's engaging in some hyperbole.

Chapter 19: Possession of the snitch

"Master!" A voice rung out through the darkness of a forest, as a man paced through the woods. There was a small light emanating off the tip of his wand, though it was too small to allow him to see farther than five feet. He spun around quickly, hearing a noise from behind him; it was a ruffling of leaves. He pushed his wand to the ground, seeing a snake come slithering out of a pile of dirt and moss. "Master?" He called out again, this time a little louder. The snake hissed again, and a translucent sphere, almost as if it were a head of a person, came floating out of it. The man stared down at the sphere, grinning wildly. "I have found you!" The sphere rushed into the man, entering him just as it had been inside the snake.

"_Barty Crouch, I knew you were loyal; I knew you would come."_ Voldemort said inside Barty's head. His voice was low and screechy, as if it pained him to speak—yet Barty knew he wasn't really speaking, per se. Voldemort, being one of the most powerful Dark Lords ever, had found ways of possessing people in both mind and body, intergrading himself with a person so intrinsically that their souls touched for a short amount of time.

"I have been searching for you for weeks, my master." Barty replied out loud, not really knowing how to go about talking to Voldemort. It was the first time the Dark Lord had ever possessed him; apparently he had been unworthy of the honor before now.

"_So I have heard."_ Voldemort agreed; Barty imagined him nodding, as if he had a body. _"The snakes I have been possessing have told me about it, and I have been trying to find you, as well. Now," _He said, reading through Barty's thoughts; flashes appeared in Barty's mind, images of his life. _"Let's see why it took you so long to come. Ah, you were sent to Azkaban, smuggled out by your father, and then held captive under the Imperius curse by him for…nineteen years? You tried to come, yes, yes I can see it."_

"Of course I did, master." Barty nodded, vehemently, disgusted by the thought of abandoning Lord Voldemort. "I pledged my allegiance to you the day I received your mark. There are others, too, who are still loyal, except they're confined to the prison of Azkaban." He scowled, hating all of the Death Eaters out in the world who had denied their master, and had been let go by the Ministry, allowed to roam free after the fall of Voldemort.

"_Take me back to England, we have work to catch up on. Mudbloods and muggles are still living, and that is something we cannot have."_ Voldemort laughed, knowing that, with Barty's help, he would return to power, this time twice as strong. He was so close last time, so very close, and this time, perhaps his last chance at it, he could not fail: he would not fail.

"Do you have anywhere we can go, master?" Barty questioned, having no clue on where they could be safe, where they could reform Voldemort's body. "I took all of my father's valuables when I left, and now the Crouch manor is covered in Aurors." The man said, remembering how he had ransacked his father's home, stealing everything that would help him and putting it in a trunk that was shrunken down, safely tucked away in his pocket. The contents of the trunk ranged from a few magical books, to a rare and expensive invisibility cloak that would surely help the Death Eater's cause. He couldn't, however, take his father's wand, as that would draw suspicion, since the older man had died of a natural death; luckily enough his mother, having loved young Barty immensely, kept his wand inside their home, so Barty was able to take it from its resting place and use it like he did before he was imprisoned.

"_Yes,"_ Voldemort responded, his tone was greedy, like a child in a candy story. After being alone, hidden from the world for so long, ten years, he couldn't help but have a flicker of giddiness inside him at the sight of an able bodied supporter. _"I know of a place."_

Two days later found Tonks and Hermione sitting next to each other in the bleachers, holding one another's hand, each dressed in different colors: scarlet red for Hermione, and green for Tonks. The other members of the group were split even, with Roger, Cedric, and Lisa rooting for Viktor; and Sirius, Remus, Ted, and Andromeda cheering for Harry. The two teams made their entrances, flashing skill and glamour that was customary at the Quidditch World Cup. "May the best team win?" Tonks said right before the snitch was released.

Hermione smiled, gripping Tonks' hand more tightly and nodding. "Of course." Then, with a great whistle, the game commenced, and the players took off, zooming after the quaffle, snitch, and bludgers. Her eyes followed her husband, never leaving him for a second; they were wide with wonder and pride.

Immediately, Harry and Viktor streaked up into the sky, searching, scanning the land for the golden snitch. The quaffle passed between teams a few times, before Bulgaria scored, taking the lead. In response, the Welsh beaters, Robins and Jones, began hammering the bludgers at the Bulgarian chasers, preventing them from performing their moves: the chasers of Bulgaria were so intoned with each other that it seemed as if they could read each other's minds. The talents of the chasers caught Wales off guard, as Bulgaria was always known for weak chasers: good beaters, a great keeper, a fantastic seeker, but below average chasers.

The next points came from Bulgaria again, as one of their chasers, Ivanova, dodged a bludger, and was able to sneak a shot past Owen Keitch. The Bulgarian crowd erupted in yells of support, and the veelas, Bulgaria's mascots, came dancing out, ensnaring the male attendees into their thrall. Fortunately for Wales, Aderyn Clagg, being the only female chaser, was able to grab the quaffle and score on the enamored Bulgarian keeper—who was captured by his very own mascots—Zograf, tying the match up. Bulgaria's coach threw her arms up from the ground, chasing the veelas away, not wanting her team to lose because of them. The veelas, for the most part, went over to the side without complaint, though a few of them did hiss at the coach, showing their bird-like features.

Bulgaria flew down the pitch, but had the quaffle stolen by Timms, who passed it to Clagg. She flew with it, dodging and dipping around chasers and bludgers, and tossed the ball at one of the goals. Zograf caught the quaffle smoothly and easily, and then threw it to Ivanova; who, upon catching it, was immediately hit with a bludger, and the quaffle fell out of his hands and to the ground. The ref swooped down and picked it up, blowing her whistle and restarting the game, throwing the quaffle up into the air to be caught. Then, suddenly, the stadium's attention was drawn away from the chasers.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two seekers, Viktor and Harry, plummeted through the center of the chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. They both, at the same time, had seen the snitch: it was racing down to the ground, ahead of the two seekers. It zoomed, quickly, speedily towards the grass, as if it knew the pair was after it. "You're not beating me, Harry." Viktor mocked, slamming into Harry. Harry used his shoulder to push back, ducking a bludger that came flying at him; Viktor swerved a little, too, moving away from the bludger.

"So you say." Harry laughed, accelerating a little, though Viktor was right there with him. They both twirled downward, speeding towards the ground before leveling off just a few feet above the grass, making the stadium 'ooh' and 'ahh'. Flying parallel now, they took off, heading straight towards the wall of the bleachers, the snitch feet from their grasp. Before it crashed into the bleachers, the snitch shot up into the air, everybody losing it in the glare of the sun. Meanwhile, Harry and Viktor both veered away from each other, one went left and one went right, each having come close to hitting the bleachers themselves.

The spectators stared, unbelievingly, at Harry and Viktor, having never seen anybody, let alone two competitors, fly like that. They seemed as though they weren't using brooms at all; they moved so easily through the air that they seemed unsupported and weightless. They were so good, so talented, that every feint they did, the other wouldn't budge—unlike against other teams, where the opposing seeker would crash into the ground. They were equals, both as incredibly talented at flying as the other, neither one had surpassing prowess when it came to brooms.

The Welsh beater Jones swung heavily at a passing bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Viktor, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face. There was a yelp from Hermione and a deafening groan from the Bulgarian crowd; Viktor's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but the referee did not blow her whistle. "He can't play like that." Hermione mumbled, a mix of fear and anger in her voice. "Look at him!" She screamed out to the announcer, though his attention was on the veelas that were dancing over on the Bulgarian side. Viktor used his scarlet robes to wipe the blood away, even though the pain would stay, at least now he could see.

After twenty more fast and furious minutes, the match was tied up at fifty points apiece. With every passing goal, the game was getting dirtier and dirtier, with each player throwing whatever elbows they could. Play, by now, had reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov, Robins and Jones seemed to not care whether their clubs hit bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. "Dimitrov—Levski—oh, stolen by Timms—over to Whisp, then to Clagg—goal for Wales!" The announcer screamed out, making a thunder of cheers erupt from the crowd. "What is this? I think the Seekers have made an eye on the Snitch!"

And it was true, as Krum and Potter both circled high in the air, the snitch was zigzagging all about, each everyway. One could cut the tension in the stadium, as all the spectators were holding their breath somehow knowing this was it, with a simple severing charm. Then, with a flap of its wings, the snitch zoomed higher into the air, and the two made a break for it. They raced towards the snitch, Viktor somewhat behind, each hoping to gain the win for their team. Suddenly, as if guided by spells, the two bludgers came whizzing towards them, nailing the tail end of their brooms, sending them both spinning.

Falling. The two Seekers fell through the air, each having one hand loosely gripping their brooms, as their heels fell over their heads; they were somersaulting down to the ground. Fearful screams echoed around the stadium: two hundred feet, one hundred and seventy five feet. The snitch flew the other way, crossing in front of their eyesight, though they could barely make it out. Then, like gymnasts performing a gold medal routine, the pair twisted back onto their brooms, concurrently, and shot towards the snitch. They both reached out for the snitch as they neared it, each going faster than they've ever flown before, wanting, needing to win.

A bludger, becoming a common occurrence during the match, hit Harry's outstretched left arm, breaking it instantly. He yelped in pain, losing focus on the snitch for just a second: Viktor's dark, black eyes shifted over to his friend for a second, but he stayed slouched, rushing towards the snitch. Harry bumped into Viktor's broom, hoping to catch up to the little distance that Viktor had gained over him. Neck and neck, the snitch was coming closer and closer to being caught, Harry and Viktor continued their pursuit. Then it happened: the snitch shot towards the ground, having been around fifty feet up, and the seekers rushed after it, catching up to it before crashing into the ground, unable to stop their momentum.

A great, big cloud of dust rose into the air, blocking the sight of what had happened. Then, with a swirl of the ref's wand, as if it wasn't there in the first place, the cloud disappeared, and Viktor and Harry came into sight: they stood, together. They were unhurt, other than Harry's broken arm and Viktor's crushed nose, but something had changed: neither was in a rush to get back onto their brooms and renew the match. Then, without saying a word, Harry threw his right arm up and released the snitch, showing everyone he had captured it.

The Welsh supporters didn't seem to realize what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet was revving its engines, the rumbling from the Welsh fans grew louder and louder and erupted into cheers of delight. With a great wave of green, they all stood up and clapped, whistled, and otherwise supported the Welsh victory. "What…what just happened?" Sirius questioned, confusedly. The pair had crashed into the ground, following the snitch, and in the commotion, Harry had somehow caught it. The snitch continued to hover next to Harry for a bit, before zooming off, it's metal wings flapping wildly.

"Who cares!" Tonks grinned, screaming out in excitement. "Harry won!" She hooted and hollered, glowing with pride. Harry mounted his broom and did a victory lap with the rest of the Welsh team, having won the game by the score of two hundred and ten to fifty. Hermione frowned down at Viktor, who had a small smile on his face, as he watched Harry fly; he was still on the ground, standing in the middle of the pitch.

Back at the group's tents later that night, a celebration dinner was happening for Wales' victory. Even Viktor, who had been on the losing side and was out of the Cup, had a smile on his face, enjoying the dinner: it was peaceful with friends and family. The group, which had previously been divided in who they were rooting for, united, and declared themselves Welsh fans, changing the colors of their tents to green, red, and white. Though loyal to Bulgaria, Viktor took part in the color change as well, and was a vocal fan of Wales in the rest of their games.

The Welsh team lost in the quarterfinals to Russia, who would go on to win the whole tournament. Even though they were out before the finals, it still had been the farthest the Welsh had been in over twenty years: five World Cups. Before Harry had joined the team, Wales considered themselves past their glory days, out of their prime. With Gwenog Jones nearing retirement age, the team needed another younger player to step up and take over the reins, which Harry more than did. Now, with the prospects of Demelza Robins and Taffy Timms having experience, the team was in great shape for a few years: no one on the team, other than Gwenog, was older than twenty-five years of age.

After the tournament, the gang dispersed, each going to different places. Viktor and Hermione were going to Bulgaria, to Viktor's house there, visiting friends and family of Viktor's; since Viktor had moved to England, his parents were the only family that he saw more than once a year, so annual trips back to Bulgaria were a must. It was an honor, in Hermione's mind, to have a husband who was willing to leave everything he knew, everyone he knew for his wife, moving to her country, to her home without a complaint. The least Hermione could do for Viktor, the man that she loved, was spend a few weeks in Bulgaria, seeing Viktor's friends and family.

And with great excitement, Harry and Tonks went on their planned honeymoon, exactly four months after their wedding. It was a fun adventure that allowed them to see wonderful animals, grizzly beasts, and beautiful magical birds and other magicks. They traveled far and wide, by magical boat, going to different wizarding towns located around the globe: Salem, Massachusettes; Matreville, France; Chang'an, China; Vijayanagara, India; Kolmanskop, Namibia; and Esageard, Norway—the town where Freyjavangr, the Norse School of Magic, is. The pair enjoyed it immensely, learning about themselves and magic, as well as having fun as a married couple. And when September 1st came around, they returned to their home in Wales, falling back into their normal routine.


	20. Where the shadows dwell

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter; this story is full steam ahead from now on. The next chapter should be just about double this length, so it'll be pretty long.

S/N 2: I know Voldemort says "Foe" and "Forcefully", and Barty says "Enemy" and "Forcibly", I did it purposely. I changed a few things in the ritual, too, see if you can spot them.

Chapter 20: Where the shadows dwell

In a room in a large manor, over looking Little Hangleton, two wizards conversed. The fire blazing in the corner from the fireplace was the only light; it created shadows around the place, which danced on the dusty walls with their peeling wallpaper. One man, dressed in a black cloak, bowed in front of a throne-like chair. The occupant of the chair was a small, feeble and ugly creature, who had pale skin, and slits for a nose. "There are difficult spells that we could use, for you were always one of my more…able followers, but the potion and ritual will give me a more powerful body." Voldemort hissed wisely. "Are you sure you can take him?"

"Leave him to me." Barty replied, an arrogant smirk playing at his face. Over the years that his father had held him prisoner under the Imperius curse, the only orders he had given were to not leave the house and to stay under the cloak. So, as a means to pass the time, Barty had read every book that was in the house, learning new spells, charms, and potions all the while. "By tonight, my master." He muttered, turning around and marching out of the room. Once he was past the wards that were in the room, he apparated out to a darkened house, his wand at the ready.

He slowly made his way towards the door, feeling the magic that was around it. Then, as if lightning struck, a red beam came flying out of the window, heading straight towards Barty. Rolling to the side, Barty quickly threw up a shield, blocking the stupefies that came his way. _Damn it,_ he scowled in his mind, _I should have anticipated Moody would have known I was here the second I arrived._ _That darn foe glass!_ He flicked his wand out, engulfing the shrubs around the house in flames, which quickly spread to the house itself. "Come out, come out, Mad-Eye!" He yelled into the night, ducking under another stupefy spell. He jabbed his wand towards the front door, releasing a purple beam, which blew the door away, leaving it a pile of splinters. He smirked as an aged, battle-worn wizard hobbled out of the house; his lips pursed in concentration. The wizard flicked his wand towards his house, extinguishing the flames in a torrent of water. "The years have not been good to you, have they, Moody?"

Moody narrowed his eyes at the man, recognizing him. It was a face, older, but still the same, that he had seen years ago; back when young Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. "You're supposed to be dead! You died in Azkaban." Moody gasped, gripping his wand more tightly. His scarred and marked face, which was missing chunks, formed into a scowl; he looked as if an artist with only a rudimentary knowledge of the human form had crafted him from wood.

"I'm afraid," Barty smirked, evilly. His eyes had a madness in them, a strange gleam that made him look insane, though he was of a perfectly sound mind—or however sound a mind of a guy like him could be. "That the stories of my demise have been greatly…misinterpreted. And as you can see I'm no longer in Azkaban." He said, arrogantly, showing his supposed superiority to the former Auror.

"I'll see to it that you are!" Moody screamed, throwing a hex at the man. Barty, using his quicker reflexes and speed, dodged it and sent a blasting hex at the former Auror. Moody put up a shield, deflecting the attack and sending it towards a tree on the other side of the yard. Twirling his wand, Moody sent a yellow sphere at Barty, who lazily dodged it, apparently unimpressed. Again, Moody sent an attack, this time with a little more power, but that too was made null by a simple action of Barty's. Barty laughed maniacally, sending a curse of his own at Moody. It hit Moody's arm, burning it to the bone, but not showing any damage. He howled in pain, loosening his grip on his wand. Seeing his chance, Barty sent a simple expelliarmus at the former Auror, which threw the wand ten feet away from him.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen. Your age and injuries have caught up to you, haven't they, Moody?" Barty mocked, summoning Moody's wand into his hands. He looked at Mad-Eye with nothing but contempt, a disgusted look on his pale features. "I admit, I was slightly worried about coming to face you, but this is not what I expected. To be honest, I thought you'd be a lot less pathetic."

"Just kill me and get it over with." Moody scowled, seemingly accepting his fate. It wasn't like him to give up, to roll over, but without his wand, without his weapon, what was the point of fighting? He was old and haggard, half of his body being marked by his lifelong battle against the dark arts, he couldn't fight back physically: magic was the only thing he had.

"I'm not here to kill you." Barty said, raising his wand at Moody. He sent a stupefy at him, making Mad-Eye fall to the ground, unconscious. He picked up Moody's wand, knowing that Voldemort would need one, and kept it close to him. "I'm here to kidnap you; much different than killing." He reached into his pocket and took out a rock that Voldemort had turned into a portkey. Grabbing Moody by the back of his robes, Barty activated the portkey, disappearing in a flash, leaving the yard scorched and ruined.

He arrived in a dark graveyard; a large house was situated on a hill above, just a few hundred feet away. He levitated Moody's unconscious body behind him, as he headed towards the center of the graveyard, where a torch was placed above a pile of robes. He dropped Moody to the ground, placed Moody's wand next to the robes, ran up to the house, and returned a few minutes later; once he did return, there was a small pop, barely audible through the night sky. Even so, Barty noticed it immediately, and bowed his head to the pile of dark, black robes. "Hello, master."

"Tie him up to the gravestone," Voldemort hissed from his place in the bundle of robes. His small frame stared up at Barty, who nodded and flicked his wand out at Moody. Moody flew up onto the gravestone, and cords wrapped around him, wreathing themselves tightly around the wizard's haggard frame. "Good," The Dark Lord muttered, grinning evilly. "Wake him up."

Barty did as he was told, following commands loyally, sending a rennervating beam at the ex-Auror. Moody's eyes snapped open, as his fake eye began to twirl in its socket, studying his surroundings, scanning the area in constant vigilance. "What do you want?" He sneered to Barty, not noticing the baby-like—although no baby was that ugly—Voldemort.

"Your blood, my dear Alastor." Voldemort hissed from Mad-Eye's side. "Once we have it, you'll be free." Voldemort said almost easily, as if taking someone's blood was the most common and innocuous thing to do.

"Voldemort?" Moody gasped, amazed that the wizard was still alive: after so long with no sign of him, even the cautious, even paranoid, Moody had thought the Dark Lord was dead and gone. His eyes flicked over to Barty, as the wizard pushed a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water—Mad-Eye could hear it sloping around—and it was larger than any cauldron the old Auror had ever seen; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in. Barty busied himself with his wand at the bottom of the cauldron, then, suddenly, there was a crackling of flames beneath it.

Voldemort stirred more persistently in his bundle of robes, as though trying to free himself. The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface not only began to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as if it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring Barty's image to Mad-Eye, as Voldemort hissed out into the night. "Hurry."

The whole surface of water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds. "It's ready, Master." Barty said, pulling open the robes and allowing Mad-Eye to see Voldemort with his non-magical eye for the first time. It was as if the Death Eater flipped over a rock, revealing something ugly, slimy, and blind—but worse, a thousand times worse. He was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. His arms and legs were thin and feeble, and his face was flat and snakelike with gleaming red eyes. Voldemort seemed almost helpless; he raised his thin arms, put them around Barty's neck, and allowed the man to carry him over to the cauldron.

"**Bone of the father, unknowingly taken. Flesh of the servant, willingly given. Blood of the foe, forcefully stolen." **Voldemort hissed, before allowing Barty to dunk him into the fiery liquid. Voldemort vanished below the surface, his frail body hitting the bottom of the cauldron with a soft thud.

"Drown you disgusting ferret." Moody growled from his place against the headstone. Barty sent him a look, as to quiet the aged wizard, but otherwise ignored the comment. Apprehensively, half of Moody's attention was on the ritual with his real eye, while his other swirled in it's socket, looking for a way out, a way to alert Albus Dumbledore that Voldemort was about to return.

Crouch was speaking; his voice was strong and confident, with an air of excitement in it. He raised his wand into the air and spoke to the night. "Bone of the father, unknowingly taken, you will renew your son!" The surface of the grave at Moody's feet cracked, opening a thin crevice in the hard ground. Curious, Moody watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Crouch's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the liquid sparked and gurgled, turning a poisonous-looking blue color.

Barty gave a sadistic smirk as he pulled out a long, thin, shinning silver dagger from inside his black cloak. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!" He stretched his left hand out in front of him, gripped the dagger tightly with his right, and swung it upwards. Barty bit down on his lip as a wave of pain overtook him, blocking his mind from thinking about anything but his severed hand that fell to the ground, limp. Crouch panted a little, picking up his hand and dropping it into the blue liquid with a sickening splash. The potion turned into a burning red as soon as the flesh entered the morbid stew.

Moody watched as Crouch wrapped a piece of cloth around his stub, grabbed the dagger from the ground, and tramped over towards him. Then, stopping just a foot before the Auror, Crouch called into the night. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly stolen, you will resurrect your foe!" Not being able to put up a fight due to the ropes, he grimaced as Crouch ran the silver dagger down his left arm, creating a line of blood that rushed out of the wound. Crouch held a glass vial up to the cut, allowing the trickle of blood to fall into it. Then, staggering back to the cauldron, Barty poured the blood into the cauldron. The liquid within, instantly, turned into a blinding white. His job done, Crouch fell to the ground, his back against a headstone, cradling his stump of an arm.

The cauldron was simmering, sending it's burning sparks out in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned everything else into ebony darkness. Suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron extinguished, leaving an eerie silence in its place, as if it were the calm before the storm. Then, with one great puff, a surge of white steam came out of the cauldron, blinding Moody from everything but the vapor hanging in the air. Through the mist in front of him, Moody saw an outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from within the cauldron.

"Master," Barty said from the ground, bowing next to the cauldron. Sweat was on his brow, and his face was pale and tired-looking. "Your robes." He held out a set of black robes in his hand, trying to rise to his feet to robe his master; he stumbled a bit, the lack of blood disorienting him.

"Stay," Voldemort ordered, making Barty stop what he was doing. The Dark Lord climbed out of the cauldron, grabbed the clothes from his servant's arms, and tossed them over his head, pulling them down so they were covering his body. Moody closed his eyes in horror, having hoped to never experience this wizard's destruction again. Being whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose as flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils, Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Voldemort examined his new body. His hands were like large, pale spiders, with his unnaturally long fingers as its legs. They caressed his chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cat's, gleamed menacingly through the dark night. He held up his arms, flexing his muscles and fingers, his expression rapt and jubilant. He turned his scarlet eyes upon Moody, releasing a high, cold, mirthless laugh. Then, with long, fluid strides, he strolled over to Barty, who raised his right arm towards him. Voldemort rolled up Barty's sleeve, revealing a red tattoo of a snake protruding from the mouth of a skull. It was, undoubtedly, the sign that froze people's minds and hearts in fear, the Dark Mark. _It's back_, he thought to himself, _they will have noticed it and now, we shall see…we shall know. _He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Barty's arm, forcing it to turn jet black. Dropping Barty's arm, the Dark Lord turned and walked a few steps, stopping as a cat ran across the lawn in the distance.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" He whispered more to himself than to Barty, though the wizard had heard it. His gleaming red eyes rose to the stars, as a cruel smirk appeared on his pale face. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?" He began to pace up and down before Barty and Moody, his eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. He bent down and picked up Moody's wand, pocketing it for use later—his wand having been left at the Potter's twenty years ago. A huge snake slithered out from the shadows suddenly, circling around Moody and heading towards Voldemort. "Ah, Nagini, I was wondering where you've been." Voldemort said, turning his attention to the snake. Then, suddenly, the air was full of swishing cloaks. "Now my true family returns!"

Between graves, behind the yew trees, in every shadowy space, wizards were apparating. All of them were hooded and masked, hiding their true identities from not only outsiders, but each other as well. One by one they moved forward, slowly, cautiously, as though they couldn't believe their eyes. They all fell to their knees, crawling up to Voldemort and kissing the hem of his robe, before backing off and forming a silent circle, which enclosed Voldemort, Moody, and Barty Crouch. Yet, even with twenty plus Death Eaters, they left spaces open as if waiting for people to fill them, though Voldemort looked like he didn't expect more.

"Welcome, Death Eaters." Voldemort said, quietly. He gazed around the hooded faces, and though there was no wind, a rustling ran around the circle, like it had shivered. "Twenty years…twenty years since we've last congregated. Yet you answer my call as if it were yesterday. We are still united under the Dark Mark, then!" He leaned his head back and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening. "I smell guilt. The stench of guilt is upon the air."

Voldemort ran his eyes around the circle, counting how many open spaces there were. "Sixteen." He whispered under his breath, trying to figure out who wasn't there. "Eleven imprisoned, two dead, and one too much of a coward to return. Plus," he said, his eyes flicking over to Barty, who was hunched over, leaning against a gravestone. He swirled his wand, creating a ball of silvery liquid, which went flying over to the downed Death Eater, formed into a silver hand, and attached itself to the man's stump. _Still, there's one more missing_, he thought to himself, _but who?_ "My most loyal!" He yelled out, impressed by the fact that the man didn't cry or beg once for Voldemort to complete on his promise. He strolled towards a Death Eater, making the man flinch as his lord came his way. Throwing himself at Voldemort's feet, the Death Eater began to beg for forgiveness. "Twenty-years, Avery! I want you to repay me for those twenty-years. Crucio!" He screamed out, sending the red beam of magic at the wizard.

Releasing the magic, Voldemort moved onto the spot next to Avery: it was a man of medium height and build. He wore a bone mask, blocking his face from view. "Lucius, I expected more from you. Do not betray me again." He threatened, an icy venom to his voice.

"Never again, my lord." Malfoy bowed, kissing Voldemort's robes. His long, white-blond hair cascaded out of his hood and over his shoulders, allowing all to see. His hair, his looks, were well known around the wizarding world, so his lack of tact in allowing his hair to be shown was a sure way for him to be profiled.

"The Carrows," Voldemort sneered to two plump people, who bowed in response. Then, moving his eyes over to the spot next to them, to a man with that seemed to stiffen at Voldemort's gaze, he said, "And Yaxley; three people who all escaped Azkaban by denying their loyalty to me. You will all pay dearly for that." He promised, moving on. "Crabbe, Goyle, looking as stupid as always, I see." He laughed, mockingly, and then walked away, passing them. "Walden Macnair, I've heard you have secured yourself a job executing beasts for the Ministry, is that right?" At the Death Eater's nod, he smiled. "Good, keep that position as our spy within the Ministry; since Rookwood was betrayed by our own, we'll need one. I promise that you will receive better prey as a result."

He continued on around the circle, stopping in front of a wizard with slumped shoulders. His body, though hidden beneath his black cloak, looked aged and worn. "Nott, still alive, I see? Very well, your services will be needed." Voldemort's eyes fell upon the Death Eater next to Nott. "Snape? Loyal still?" Voldemort said, somewhat surprised.

"Always, my lord." Snape replied as he bowed deeply, keeping his eyes on the shadowed grass beneath him. Through his white mask he could see Voldemort's bare feet, bony and chalk-like, point towards him, showing that the Dark Lord had yet to move.

"We shall see." Voldemort hissed after a moment, striding past Snape without another look. "Three Lestranges loyally locked away in Azkaban." Voldemort said, staring at an empty spot within the circle that usually housed three of his most loyal Death Eaters. Then, he moved past a Death Eater, and looked at another row of empty posts that was big enough to hold five wizards. "Avery, Sr.," He glared at the younger Avery, who was still sprawled out on the grass, trying to get back up from the Crucio. "Mulciber, Gibbon, Travers, and Jugson; they will all be freed." He turned his attention back to the Death Eater he had just passed. "Rosier? Still loyal to me even after losing your son?"

"I've been loyal since our days at Hogwarts, my lord." Rosier bowed deeply, his eyes firmly on the ground, refusing to meet Voldemort's. Evan Rosier was his son, a wizard who had died young in Voldemort's service, during the last war that Voldemort had led against mudbloods. Though his loyalty had strayed slightly, the older Rosier had come tonight to see Voldemort with his own eyes, to see if his mark truly did burn by the Dark Lord's call. He still had yet to make up his mind on what to do, though he was leaning one way; he was toeing a fine line.

"Good, good." Voldemort nodded, continuing on past him and the empty spots he had just critiqued, until he came upon the beginning of another empty place. "Dolohov's spot." Voldemort murmured to himself. "He will be freed, as well. Karkaroff's spot," He said, noting the empty space. "He will pay for his betrayal." He hissed angrily, having heard about what Igor had done, snitching on the Death Eaters for his own freedom, from Barty.

He studied the last few spots of the circle, noticing they were empty. "The rat known as Pettigrew." Voldemort sneered at the empty space. "Surprisingly loyal, he will be freed. Evan Rosier, dead in my service." He muttered. His eyes flicked over to the spot next to Rosier's former one. "Wilkes dead in my service, as well." Then his brow furrowed as he tried to remember who was next to Wilkes. "Greyback?" He looked up, noticing the full moon. _That's the other missing one_, he said in his head. "He better show up tomorrow, or else he will pay with his death." Then he came across the last two spots: one of them being Barty Crouch's regular spot, that is before he was upgraded to standing in the center with his master. "Finally we have Rookwood's spot; imprisoned in my service, he will be freed." Voldemort noted. "Quirrell will be freed, too, for his loyalty."

"My lord," Lucius Malfoy said, taking a step into the middle, somewhat confidently; he was a little more confident than the rest of the Death Eaters. "Please, we need, we crave to know…we beg for you to tells us how it was possible for you to come back to us."

"Ah, it's quite a tale, my friends." Voldemort started, strolling about the circle, gazing at his servants. "When I attacked the Potters, that miserable mudblood whelp used ancient magic to deflect the Killing curse I threw at her son back onto me, destroying my body in the process. Pain, unimaginable pain is what it was; I was less than the meanest ghost, yet I was alive. I, the person who has gone the farthest on the path to immortality, was alive; powerless and without body, but still, I was alive. I knew the Aurors and Hitwizards would be on my trail so I fled to the Black forests of Albania, where humans weren't plentiful. There I lived away from humans, away from magical folk that were still searching for me, by using the only power I had left in that of possession, possessing random creatures to stay alive: snakes being the most preferable. I waited for my loyal followers to come and help their master for ten years. Surely they would come, come to the aid of their master, and perform the magic that I couldn't without a body. I remember forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second to exist, but none came and I waited in vain." Voldemort's gaze ran over the group, sending another shiver up their spines. They new, instinctively, that he was envisioning them being tortured by his hand for their disobedience, for their failures.

"Finally, at long last," He started again, resuming his speech. "A young wizard came through the forest, and I was able to entice him into helping me. With his help, I concocted a plan to get myself a new body, but that fool Dumbledore foiled that plan, forcing me to run to Albania once again, where I would wait for another ten years. Then my most devoted, my most loyal follower—who has been chained these last twenty years—came looking for me, and brought me back to my home. Using a ritual of my own creation, I fashioned myself a new body; it wouldn't be as powerful as the one I would have had if I had used the Sorcerer's stone, but still, it was a body. And now, here we are my family, reunited once again!"

"Incredible, my lord." Lucius said, silkily. The sun was rising in the distance, it's burning glory masked by the night's darkness. As the rays began to pour down on the Death Eaters, there was a loud pop off to the side, signaling the arrival of another.

He was medium height, and of a stocky build; muscles could be seen underneath his long, black cloak. His movements were slow and shaky, as if he was worn out or otherwise tired. As he neared Voldemort, he fell to his knees, bowing deeply, silently asking for forgiveness. "Get up, Greyback." Voldemort hissed to the Death Eater, allowing the werewolf a sliver of mercy, if not for any other reason than because he had come the second the sun had risen. "I have a mission for you already. It's easy, really: go and recruit the werewolves to my side."

"Right…right away, my lord." Fenrir Greyback, the world's most vicious werewolf said, bowing his head. With sallow skin, wild black and gray hair, and amber eyes with a tint of red, he was as scary as a human as he was as a werewolf. Bloodthirsty without even transforming, Fenrir took pleasure in mauling people through physical combat, loving the feeling of blood between his fingers. The man was notorious for turning young children into werewolves and raising them in his clan, as well. Greyback scanned the Death Eater circle before apparating out, presumably to the werewolf clans of the country.

"Disgusting." Voldemort sneered at the spot Greyback just left, cringing at the thought of non-humans. Then, looking over to a tall man, who seemed rail thin in his cloak, Voldemort gave a small smirk. "Macnair, I want you to go to the giants; and as payment for your betrayal these last twenty years, I'm forcing you to supply the gifts. Remember, if the giants don't like the gift, they'll kill the gift bringer. But that's not too different than what I'll do to you if the giants aren't on my side, either, so take your pick on who'll be your executioner."

"Of course, my lord." Walden Macnair said, shakily. The wizard had always been good at controlling beasts all through his life, hence Care of Magical Creatures being his best class way back in his Hogwarts years. In fact, he got such good scores in the course that it came as no great surprise that he had gotten a job with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the Ministry straight out of graduation; Magical Beasts Division in particular. Bowing, he said, "I'll be in contact about my progress, my lord." Then, with a pop, he apparated out of the circle, leaving an empty space where he was just seconds ago.

"As for the rest of you," Voldemort muttered, as if he were in thought thinking about some great important mission for them. He closed his red eyes for a second, a flood of ideas rushing into his mind, all of them cruel and vicious.

"Anything, master, just tell us what!" Avery, jr. yelled out from his place in the circle, begging to be in Voldemort's good graces once again.

"I'll get to that, Avery." Voldemort growled, his eyes now open and scanning the area. They whipped to Mad-Eye, who was still chained to the gravestone; he was pale and sweaty, his arm still bleeding, now only rather than a trickle, it was profusely rushing out. He would be dead within minutes if it kept up like that. "Ah, Alastor." The Dark Lord hissed, smirking. He flipped his wand out, allowing the Auror to fall to the ground, where the old wizard gave a great huff, trying to catch his breath. "Now, for some entertainment. Crucio!" Voldemort hissed, sending a red beam of energy at the Auror, who screamed out in pain as a thousand daggers ran over him. He wasn't one to feel pain, but Voldemort's Cruciatus curse was like no other; it was a thousand times worse. Canceling the attack, Voldemort stupefied Moody, allowing him to fall into peaceful unconsciousness.

"Go, my friends! Recruit your sons and daughters, recruit all those who are loyal to our cause, and bring them to me so they can receive their marks." They bowed before disapparating away, leaving Voldemort and Barty alone, with Mad-Eye's unconscious body crumpled a few feet away. Nagini hissed through the air, coming out of the shadows for the first time since the Death Eater's had left. "Leave us," Voldemort said to Barty, who bowed and apparated out. "Get up, Moody." Voldemort sneered, rennervating the old wizard. Moody's eyes shot open, as he struggled to his feet, looking around defiantly.

The Dark Lord flicked his wand towards Moody, sending a sickly green beam at him, which hit the Auror directly in the chest, killing him before his corpse hit the ground. Then, immediately after, Voldemort swished his wand, reciting an ancient spell lowly as a translucent blue sphere of energy traveled down his arm, through his wand, and into Nagini. The snake convulsed for a second, before settling down, and a slithering away as if nothing happened. Smirking evilly, Voldemort turned and headed towards the Riddle house, intent on planning out his coming actions.


	21. The light will always swell

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: This chapter's anticlimactic, but the good stuff will start soon, in two chapters, so be prepared.

S/N 2: The chapters should be around this length for now on.

Chapter 21: The light will always swell

Harry gasped awake, jolting upright in his bed. He glanced around the room, trying to remember where he was: his home, his room. His eyes flicked over to Tonks, who had stirred when he awoke, and she had an eye open to him, as if she were only half awake. "Go back to bed, sweetie." He mumbled, kissing her cheek, tenderly. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, walking over to the bathroom. He took a quick shower, as his dream ran through his mind. He needed to tell someone, tell Dumbledore, just in case it was something more than a dream. What could it be, though? Was he having some sort of prophetic visions while he was asleep? _No_, he said to himself, _I'm not a seer, and seers don't have visions, they have prophecies_. Realizing what he needed to do, he threw on some clothes, ran to the fireplace, and flooed out.

The door to Albus Dumbledore's office clicked shut, as the visitor that was just there left a second before the fire in the fireplace sprung to life with green. Stumbling out, Harry Potter appeared in the Headmaster's office, looking frazzled and worried. "Albus," He murmured, turning to the wizard who was behind his desk. "I saw something last night; in my dreams. It was Voldemort. I don't know if it was real or not, but he's…he's constructed himself a new body, I think he might…"

Dumbledore held up a hand, stopping Harry from speaking, pausing him mid-sentence. "I know, Harry: Voldemort is back." He gestured to the door, his eyes swiveling to the fine oak. "Severus has just relayed me the events of last night." He said, surprisingly relaxed, as if he wasn't worried.

Harry cocked an eyebrow, somewhat remembering Voldemort having talked to Snape during his dream. "What are we going to do?" Harry questioned, looking at Dumbledore as the aged wizard looked up at a portrait.

"Go and get Remus Lupin for me, will you, Glanmore? Tell him the basics." He asked a former headmaster, who seemed to be older than Hogwarts itself. With a simple and silent nod, the wizard left his frame, traveling down to the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts chamber, where Remus Lupin was. Dumbledore then flicked his wand out, releasing a silver bird, which disappeared as soon as it appeared. "Hagrid is needed as well." He said to Harry, answering his quizzical gaze. "You saw Voldemort's return in your dreams, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, biting his lip. "It was as if…as if I was Voldemort, himself." He instinctively reached up to his lightning bolt-shaped scar, which pricked a little; something that it had never done. "I saw everything from his point of view, from his eyes."

Dumbledore studied Harry for a few moments, before saying, "Clear out your mind before you go to sleep from now on. I believe that through the scar, you and Voldemort are now connected; you'll be able to feel what he feels and see what he sees. Likewise, it goes both ways, he'll be able to see what you see and feel what you feel. Your Occlumency is needed now more than ever. The basics, I remember, were something that we spent the most time on: remember those lessons. Remember what I taught you." Dumbledore said, knowledgably, his voice caring and soft.

Just then, the door bursted open, and in came three people: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Rubeus Hagrid. They all had looks of worry on their face, with Lupin's being the most tired and worn out of them all. "Albus, I hope you don't mind me coming along, but I was visiting Remus last night, full moon and all, and I wanted to help anyway I could." Sirius muttered, hurriedly. It seemed as if they all had sprinted up here, as they were all huffing, trying to catch their breaths; their hands were on their knees.

"No, it's good that you are here, Sirius." Dumbledore stated, looking at the man with his twinkling blue eyes. "I have an assignment for you, too." He flicked his eyes over to Harry. "Harry, I want you to recruit new Order members from your generation; those who are willing to fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You, Sirius, I want you to go to the old gang and see who is willing and able to fight. Start with Mundungus."

"Right away, sir. Meet at my place in an hour." Sirius said, jetting over to the fireplace that was behind Dumbledore's desk. His brow was furrowed in intense concentration, a fire seemingly lit in his heart and mind. Throwing a handful of floo powder into it, the flames blasted green, and with a yell, he was gone, presumably to find Mundungus Fletcher.

"I'll start with Hermione and Shacklebolt, they'll join straight away." Harry said, biting his lip. Hermione would be a big help in gathering people, plus, with her job, she could get information that would be otherwise hidden from them. And Shacklebolt, who was a very powerful wizard in his own right, would be huge in following Voldemort's moves, what with being the head Auror and having the department at his disposal.

"Harry," Dumbledore reminded, staring at the younger wizard over his half-moon spectacles. "Make sure the people you pick are trustworthy, understand? We need to be secretive for the time being. Voldemort does not know that we know he's back." He reminded, just making sure Harry knew that: he trusted the man to no end, knowing the unimaginable powers and intelligence he had, but, when it came down to it, Harry was still young and inexperienced.

"Don't worry, Albus; I'm going to my friends first, and then I'll expand, making sure those I ask aren't willing to betray us." Harry said, entering the fireplace and flooing out.

"You, Remus, I need you to go to the werewolf camps." Dumbledore ordered, his eyes twisting over to the werewolf. "I know this is a lot to ask for, but Severus has it on good authority that Voldemort intends to send Greyback," At this Remus gave out a shiver; Fenrir Greyback had been the werewolf who had bitten Remus, giving him his lycanthropy. "To them immediately."

"I'll leave now, Albus." Remus nodded, turning and running out of the room.

"And you, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, speaking to the only person left in the room, the half-giant known as Hagrid. "I need you to be our envoy to the giants. Voldemort has already sent out Macnair to them, intent on gaining their help just like he did during the last war."

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore, sir." Hagrid agreed, nodding his big, hairy head; his graying beard flapped up and down. "I'll call Maxime, and she'll come with me." The half-giant sprinted out of the office, his tall frame ducking underneath the threshold to fit. The rumbling of his feet hitting the cold stone floor echoed around the halls, so greatly loud that the Hufflepuffs could hear from their common room, located in a cellar two floors down.

Dumbledore gave a great sigh, feeling his age again. These moments were coming more and more frequent, a clear sign that his life was nearing its end. There was so much still to do, he knew, with Voldemort back, and he could only hope that his body would allow it. Glancing up at a portrait of a Headmistress back in the 1700's, he said, "Go to Minerva for me, would you?" The old witch nodded, knowing the situation and ran out of her frame without a fuss. Swiveling around in his seat, he threw a handful of floo powder into the flames, and stuck his head in. "Aberforth?" He called out, looking around the room.

"Cedric! Cedric!" Harry screamed, his head appearing in a greenish haze. A few seconds later, he heard the thumps of someone running down the stairs. He had decided to go to Cedric first, his best friend, because he needed to see he was okay; the vision from Voldemort's eyes leaving a haze of fear, of worry in his mind.

Cedric slid into the room, looking as if he had just woke up; he had no shirt on, and bare feet. "What? What is it, Potty?" He said, looking down at Harry with wide, somewhat nervous looking eyes.

"Get dressed and meet me at Sirius' in a half an hour." Harry ordered, his voice grim. Cedric leveled a curious gaze at his friend, asking a question with his gray eyes. Harry bit his lip, shaking his head. "Voldemort's back." Cedric gasped, but didn't get a chance to respond as Harry disappeared, leaving the man alone. Turning, he sprinted up to his bedroom, quickly took a shower, threw on some clothes, and flooed to Sirius' house.

"Hermione!" Harry said, hurriedly, as he appeared in the Krums' living room. It was a peaceful room, with earthly tones, comfortable couches, and bookshelves and windows adorning the walls. Located on the northern tip of England, their home was just an hour or two away from Scotland.

"Harry?" Viktor mumbled, wiping his eyes; they were droopy and saggy, showing nothing but tiredness. Hermione came in a few seconds later, wrapping her nightgown around her, her hair a jumbled mess. "What is it?"

"No time to explain, but get dressed and meet me at Sirius' house in a half an hour…Voldemort's returned." Harry ordered, disappearing before they could press the issues. As if it were lightning, that revelation seemed to wake Hermione, for her eyes shot open, and she turned to her husband in fear. Then, without saying a word, she turned and ran up the stairs to get ready, knowing that Harry was serious in what he said.

"Roger!" Harry yelled out, appearing in Roger's fireplace. The man he was calling for looked down from the couch he was sitting on, giving Harry a small smile, as if expecting him. Harry gave a half-hearted smile back, glad that Roger, his oldest and closest friend, was okay, was safe, as was his family.

"I already know," Roger said, knowingly. "Cedric just told me. I'll be there. Do you need me to do anything before then?" He questioned, hoping to help out anyway he could.

"No," Harry replied, shaking his head. "I…I don't know, we'll see what it is we have to do at the meeting. See you there," He said, before disappearing. Roger sighed lowly, rising to his feet and heading out of the sitting room.

Shacklebolt Kingsley munched on a bowl of cereal, as he read the daily prophet in his living room. Being a Saturday, he liked to spend the mornings resting and relaxing, allowing the week's tension to wash away from him, leaving his muscles refreshed and ready. He flipped the page, turning to the Quidditch section when the fireplace flames roared green, and Harry Potter's face came in view. "Shack." He said, grabbing the Auror's attention.

"What is it?" The bald wizard questioned, cocking an eyebrow. There was something about Harry's voice that screamed out a serious situation, which was saying something considering Harry rarely got nervous.

"Voldemort's back." Harry answered, grimly. His eyes shifted to Kingsley's attire, which was an easy and comfortable set of red robes, with muggle jeans underneath. "We're all meeting at Sirius' in a half an hour, see what we need to do to fight him. Meet us there?"

"Of course." Kingsley answered, dread rising up inside. He remembered the massacres that happened last time Voldemort was in power, and now after twenty years of peace, the menace was back, and maybe even more powerful than before. Harry nodded to him, somehow knowing just what the man was thinking before disappearing, presumably to recruit another member. Kingsley sat in his chair for a few minutes, his cereal having been forgotten. He gripped his wand, gently rolling a finger over it, hoping that whatever power it had, it would keep him and his friends and family safe from the carnage.

"George, Fred!" Harry called, hoping the two were in the shop already. He couldn't spend much more time gathering people, since he had a much more delicate situation to take care of, that would surely take a good amount of time, still to do. Seeing a man with long red hair and freckles coming towards the fireplace, Harry said, "Bill, right?" Not really knowing which older Weasley was which.

"Ah, yeah," Bill Weasley nodded, wondering who it was that was floo calling his brothers. Hearing noises from behind, he turned and watched as three of his brothers came into the back room as well; George and Fred, his twin brothers; and his younger brother Charlie, who was usually away in Romania taking care of Dragons. "There's someone calling for you two." Bill told his brothers, taking a step back to allow them through.

"Harry?" Fred questioned, putting the box he was carrying down on the ground, and turning his attention to the fireplace. "What is it?"

"I need your help, guys." Harry said, solemnly. "Voldemort's back and we're rounding up people to fight him. Meet me at Sirius' in a half an hour, and I'll explain everything, okay?" Nodding to them, he disappeared, leaving them all dazed and confused. Having grown up during Voldemort's last rise to power, they all dreaded the wizard, knowing just how dangerous and destructive he was.

"I knew I came back for a reason." Charlie said, looking at his brothers. "I'm in, so you two will have to tell me where Sirius, I'm assuming Sirius Black, lives so I can go to that meeting." He had come back to Great Britain, to the Burrow in Scotland, just a few days ago, having a gut feeling that something was about to happen and that his family would need him, but didn't know what it was at the time. Now, having heard from Harry Potter, a famous wizard, that Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard of the age, had returned, he now understood why he had come back.

"I'm in, too." Bill nodded, knowing that he was a good enough wizard to help out whatever resistance people would put up. As a Curse-Breaker, he had dealt with dangerous curses and dark magic all of his adult life, and knew that whatever the Death Eaters would throw at him, he would be able to handle it. He had put in for a transfer t

"We're all in." George muttered, turning and walking into the shop. "Verity, you're going to have to work today by yourself, me and Fred are leaving on a few errands." A young witch with short blonde hair, wearing the magenta robes of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes looked up, nodding her head.

Harry appeared in his living room shortly after having talked with the Weasleys. He headed towards the kitchen; knowing Tonks would be there, having woken up when Harry jumped out of bed. Sure enough, she sat at the counter, reading the paper with a mug of tea close to her mouth. Zeali cleaned the table a few feet away from her, whistling a small tune happily. "Tonks, Nymphadora," Harry said, making her turn to him with worried eyes. "I'm sorry for leaving so quickly but…Voldemort has returned; I saw it with my own eyes in my dream. Then, when I went to go tell Dumbledore, he agreed, having spoken with Snape, his spy, already."

"What?" Tonks asked, shocked and confused by what he had just said. Admittedly, it was a lot to take in. "What are you talking about?" She questioned him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Voldemort is back." Harry muttered, noticing that Zeali had stopped whistling, and had turned to the wizard with wide, scared eyes. The elf fell to the floor, sitting Indian style and curling himself into a ball, placing his now tear-stricken face between his knees, and beginning to rock backward and forward. Harry cocked an eyebrow at Tonks, before inching over to his elf, kneeling beside the magical being and gingerly touching his shoulder. "Zeali, what's wrong?"

"Zeali knows of what the Dark Lord did in the past." The elf rasped out between sobs. "Zeali knows that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked Master Harry's family; he knows that it was Master Harry who triumphed over the Dark Lord last time. Zeali knows that his family will be targets. Last time He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in power, House-elves were treated like vermin, Zeali's heard. Zeali does not want any of that to happen, Master Harry, sir."

Harry bit his lip, seeing just how young Zeali was. Still just a teenager in human years, it would seem. "Zeali," Harry said softly, rubbing the elf's back. Zeali pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes like a small child. "Don't worry, nothing will happen to us; and you, you will definitely not be treated like vermin, I promise you that." Zeali looked up at Harry, and wrapped his small arms around the wizard's neck, hugging him tightly. Harry patted the elf's back, leaning back and giving him a small smile. Zeali smiled back, lifted himself off the floor, and went back to his cleaning, whistling the song he was before.

Tonks, who had been watching the exchange with teary eyes, stared at Harry, asking a question silently. Then, rising from her chair, she said, "What are we going to do?"

"Well," Harry replied, coming over to her. "I've been gathering people to fight for the last half hour, and we're all meeting at Sirius' in a twenty minutes. I have another person to talk to before I head on over there, but you could get ready and meet me there, if you want." Tonks nodded, planted a kiss on Harry's lips, and headed out the door, mumbling something about Dark Lords ruining the plans she had with Gaetana. Harry waved goodbye to Zeali, then walked into the living room and stuck his head into the fire, throwing green floo powder into it. "Hey, Queenie, is he here?" Harry asked, his head appearing in the fireplace of a beautiful living room.

A woman looked up from the paper she was reading with a smile, and nodded her head. She had brown hair, hazel eyes, a small nose, some freckles on her face, and pink lips; she was of a pale color, though she made it look magnificent. "He's in his study, Harry." She said, gesturing to the hallway across from the couch she was sitting on.

Harry flooed the rest of his body in, stumbled forward, and landed with a thud as he fell onto the hardwood floor. Rising to his feet, he shrugged to the woman, who was watching him with an amused grin on her face. "I'll talk to you later," Harry said, walking out of the living room and into the study that was across the hall. He gave a slight knock on the opened door, announcing his presence.

The man looked up from behind his big oak desk, and nodded. "I know why you're here. There's no need to ask, I'll do it." He said, quickly and quietly, motioning Harry into the room. Papers were scattered around on his desk, and he made a move to clear them off, but instead just left them, not worrying about it.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, taking a seat in the chair that was in front of the desk. He glanced about the room, noticing the different colors and rich woods that gave the office a homey feel.

"My father came to me this morning, a little over an hour ago, and told me that I would be receiving the mark; no questions about it." The man sighed, rolling up his left sleeve. Harry's eyes gazed over the vivid blood red skull tattoo that had a snake for a tongue. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you came and asked me, so I took it; no questions asked."

"Get up, I want to test you." Harry said, rising from his chair, and walking into the center of the room. The man followed Harry, and stopped a few feet away, cocking an eyebrow up to him. "Lie to me." Harry ordered, making eye contact with the man. He perused his mind, searching for the memory of when they first met. He found it after a few seconds, and watched as it played within his mind's eye. It, unsurprisingly, was much different than what had really happened. Instead of being friendly like the truth, the memory showed that the two were very hostile to one another, insulting one another with a scowl and a sneer. "Good." Harry said, nodding in satisfaction. "Now, block me out completely." He raised his wand, and called out, "Legilimens!" He bombarded the man's mind, full on attacking his memories and emotions. A grin formed on Harry's face as he felt himself being repelled, slowly but surely being pushed away. Then, with one great burst, he was forced to occlude his own mind, as the man threw him out.

"He tried it this morning; I could feel the ting in the back of my head." The man said, once Harry had completely left his mind. Having been taught the basics of Occlumency and Legilimency by Harry, after Dumbledore taught Harry, he studied the two practices even further by himself, becoming extremely proficient in both. He knew that this was one of the reasons they had been friends: to help each other out if dark days were to come. He could give Harry much needed information from the dark side, while Harry could protect him and his family when the judgments came down.

"You…you don't have to do this, you know." Harry told him, hoping he wasn't just doing this because Harry was asking him to. It would be a shame if the man risked his life in a cause, in something that he didn't believe in, and only did it because he felt forced. They both went back to their chairs, sitting down and looking at each other, their eyes locked.

"No," He shook his head, frowning. "I do. My father stained my name, and I want to wipe it clean for my children to grow up with, even if no one knows about it. Plus, I owe you from way back in Hogwarts." He said, scowling at the thought of his father; he loved him, he truly did, but he was disgusted by his father's weakness, his susceptibility when it came to being swoon, being charmed by dark wizards like Voldemort.

Harry nodded, knowing he wouldn't change the man's mind. "You don't owe me anything, we both helped each other out." They were both silent for a few minutes, each going over that clear fact: they both helped each other out. "Are you busy?" Harry questioned, breaking the silence. "Because I want to bring you to Dumbledore, have him discuss things with you."

The man shrugged, rising to his feet. "No, I'm free for the time being. Shall we?" He asked, gesturing to the door. Harry nodded, and followed him out to the sitting room, where the floo-connected fireplace was. "I'll be back in a little while, hunny." The man told his wife, who looked up from her paper and blew him a kiss goodbye; he smiled back at her, and put his black hood on. Harry waved to her as he disappeared in a flash of green flames, appearing in Dumbledore's office just a few seconds later.

Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow at the pair as they stumbled out of the fireplace; gesturing to the two chairs in front of his desk, he watched as they respectively took them. "Harry," He nodded to the wizard, and then flicked his eyes over to the other wizard with him, who was hiding behind his black hood; a shadow covered his face. "I trust you had something to tell me that couldn't wait for the meeting?"

"Albus," Harry replied, gesturing to the wizard next to him. "What we say stays with us, okay?" Albus gave Harry a curious glance, before the younger wizard continued. "We have another spy within Voldemort's ranks. The catch is, however, no one besides you and me will know who it is, understood? He is my friend and is doing this as a favor to me, I will not risk the Dark Lord finding out just who it is that is feeding us information."

Dumbledore's eyes shifted over to the cloaked wizard, as the aged man gazed into the shadow, as if trying to decipher whom it was. Then, with a gentle push, he was forced out of the man's mind, preventing him from gathering any information. "Understood." He gave the pair a small smile, already having an idea on just who it was. His suspicions were correct as the man pulled down his hood, revealing himself. "Now will you be attending the meetings or will you be communicating with Harry directly?" He questioned, wondering just what it was the two had in mind. Another spy, another informant, would be great for the Order and help out things immensely.

Ten minutes later, all three occupants of the room rose from their chairs, each heading towards the fireplace. "I figured we'd communicate through the journals for the time being." Harry said, as his friend and new spy for the Order grabbed a handful of floo powder. "You still have yours, don't you?" Harry questioned, hoping he still had his charmed journal from their Hogwarts days.

Harry had charmed twin journals so they could talk to each other wherever they may be during their sixth year. It was simple really: whatever one wrote in one journal would appear in the other. And when writing did appear, the usually blank cover would change into having a title, usually saying _'The Writing on the Wall'_, though it could be changed if so desired. The only catch was that one had to know the password to unlock the journal, making it all but impossible to read if you didn't have the password. It was a simple, but brilliant charm of Harry's own invention that allowed people to talk over great distances, much quicker than it would take if they were using an owl to send letters, and much more convenient than having to stick your head in a fireplace to talk through the floo network.

"Of course." He nodded, knowing that the said journal was in his top draw, safely tucked away. "Write me later and tell me when the next meeting is." The man smiled, throwing the floo powder into the flames and disappearing back to his house. Harry stared at the fireplace for a few seconds, taking in all that had happened during the day, then, with a swift motion, entered the flames and flooed to Sirius' house; Dumbledore flooing right behind him.

When they appeared in Grimmauld Place, they could hear an assortment of voices coming from the basement, and headed that way. Walking down the creaky steps and coming into view of the group, they were both pleasantly surprised to see all who had come: there were all of the people Harry had asked (including Bill and Charlie Weasley), and members from the old gang like Dedalus Diggle; Elphias Doge; Hestia Jones; Mundungus Fletcher; Sturgis Podmore; and Minerva McGonagall. Then there were the new people that weren't asked by Harry, but by Sirius and other Order members, presumably. There was Emmeline Vance, looking stately as ever; Broderick Bode, a known Unspeakable; and, last but not least, Gaetana Robards, friend and bridesmaid of Tonks—presumably on vacation from the Italian Ministry. There were a grand total of twenty-seven wizards and witches there, not including both Harry's spy and Severus Snape who both weren't in attendance.

As soon as everyone saw that Dumbledore had arrived, their whispering stopped, and each turned towards the grand wizard, staring at him in anticipation. He gave them a warm smile, recognizing all of the faces in the room; he went to school with some of them, taught some others, and watched over the last as their Headmaster while they attended Hogwarts. His eyes ran over them, noticing that they all had a certain look of defiance in their eyes, except Mundungus, who was gazing around the room, licking his lips at all the wonderfully expensive things he could sell on the black market. The dinning room table, he noted, had been pushed off into the corner, making more room for all to stand comfortably; though, even with the table in the center, there was plenty of space.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as another guest tramped down the stairs, somewhat lazily. Emerging from the shadows was an aged man, with long wire-gray hair, and moon-shaped glasses. He nodded tensely to Dumbledore, and then threw his hood over his head, as if his very presence was risky. He maneuvered through the crowd, each as silent as they were before he had come; passing Harry, he reached up and gripped the wizard's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Harry smiled, having been fond of the man ever since they met during his third year when he had went into the wrong pub during a Hogsmeade trip. Though, even with the exchange that had just happened and the brief glimpse that they saw of his face, no one but a select few knew just who it was: Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge being the main ones, having been friends with Albus since their Hogwarts days.

"Right," Dumbledore shook his head, regaining his wits. His eyes lingered on the man that had just come down, somewhat sizing him up. His brother, Aberforth, was a wizard who knew Albus better than anyone; he knew how the great wizard worked, knew of his past, and knew what he was like before he took center stage in the war against darkness. Though they were brothers, they were complete opposites from one another, and their relationship, though somewhat loving, was a rocky one. There was a time, back when Aberforth was still in Hogwarts, when the pair hadn't spoken with each other for ten years. "As you all have almost certainly heard, Voldemort," There was a shudder that ran through the group, but Dumbledore paid no mind to it: fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. "Has returned."

"All of you are very brave to have come, for that means you will fight against this terror." Dumbledore continued, looking at each and every person in the room. "This fight will not be an easy one; sacrifices, unfortunately, will have to be made. But know that all we do is for the greater good." The hooded Aberforth Dumbeldore gave a grunt, laughing for a few seconds and rolling his unseen eyes. "This, the Order of the Phoenix, must be kept a secret for the time being for Voldemort does not know that we know he's back. Secrecy and surprise will be our friends. Honestly, we have not gathered anymore information as of yet, so there really is nothing else to say right now, but by tomorrow we will know what it is we have to do."

The group started to whisper amongst each other as Dumbledore turned, and walked over to the stairs, where Harry stood, leaning against the wall; his arms were across his chest, looking casual. "You will tell me when our mutual friend contacts you, right?" He asked quietly, making sure no one else could hear.

"Of course," Harry answered, nodding his head to emphasize the fact. "I'm sure he'll be attending our next meeting; though hidden, masked, I would presume." Dumbledore glanced around the room, absentmindedly studying all of the Order Members; some of them were great wizards, some were in high positions and could gather information, and others were braver than anyone he had ever met or seen. All of their flaws and strengths ran through his mind, thinking about ways where they would be safest, yet still be able to help the Order.

Dumbledore watched Sirius make his way towards them, weaving in and out of the crowd. "Ah, thank you for allowing us to use your home, Sirius." Dumbledore smiled as Sirius stopped about five feet away from him.

"It's ideal for headquarters," Sirius shrugged, indifferently, willing to do anything to help the cause. "My father put every security measure known to Wizard-kind on it; it's unplottable so muggles could never come and call." His eyes shifted over to Harry, and he gave his godson a wide smile. "Or at least that's what Harry told me when he checked the wards."

"Yes, well," Dumbledore replied, his blue gaze moving about the basement, as if seeing the magic that was entwined within. "I would like to add more to the house, if you don't mind. A Fidelius charm being the main one."

"No, no, of course not." Sirius said, shrugging again. Then, looking into Dumbledore's eyes, he said, "Though, I have a request: I want to be the secret keeper. I…I don't trust anyone to do it, including you. Bad experience, you know?"

"Sure," Dumbledore agreed, not seeing the harm in it. Sirius Black was an honorable, noble, and powerful wizard, who was devoted to the side of good. He was a man who tragically lost a part of his life due to lies and deceit, yet still kept his innocence about him; a feat that not many could accomplish. "I'll come by later tonight and perform the magic. Harry, you'll need to be here with me and Sirius as well; it'll be good to show you some more powerful wards that I've never gotten around to." Harry nodded, knowing he still had a lot to learn about wards. "Good day, then, gentleman. I shall see you both tonight." Dumbledore smiled, walking up the stairs, leaving the rest of the Order.

When Dumbledore left, Aberforth leaving a few minutes after his brother, the group turned towards Harry, staring at him in curiosity. "Harry, you came to us, do you know how You-Know-Who came back?" Roger questioned, stirring the crowd as they buzzed with whispers. They all wanted to know just how it was possible for Voldemort, a wizard that had supposedly been dead for the last twenty years, to resurrect himself.

"I…" Harry stuttered, looking around the room. "I don't want to step on Dumbledore's toes, I think he was going to tell you all about it tomorrow." Seeing their un-amused faces, he sighed, and took a seat in one of the chairs that was usually situated around the dinning room table. "It all started with Barty Crouch, jr. He's somehow done something that has only been accomplished by one other person, and that someone is standing right next to me." His eyes flicked up to Sirius, who looked down at his godson quizzically. "He somehow faked his death, and escaped Azkaban. No one knew about it, of course, because they all assumed he was dead, so he was free to search for Voldemort in the forests of Albania. Once he found his master, they traveled back to England together, and prepared a potion that would grant Voldemort a new body. They kidnapped Mad-Eye Moody, and used his blood, Barty's flesh, and the bone of Voldemort's father to fuel the ritual. Once it was done, out came Voldemort, looking like the snake he is. He then summoned his Death Eaters, and gave them his orders. Mad-Eye Moody died, too, that's why he's not here." Harry finished, sadly, remembering the old and powerful Auror. In his hey-day, not many could have matched the man's wondrous powers.

"To Mad-Eye," Bill Weasley cheered, raising an invisible glass. The others did, too, honoring their fallen comrade: a wizard who was a renowned Auror, and a fighter for light. A few minutes later the room filtered out, everyone except a select few returning to their homes.

Hermione was the only one sitting at the table, her face blank and expressionless, though her eyes were watery. "Are you okay?" Viktor questioned his wife, coming over to her and rubbing her back. Cedric, Roger, Harry, Tonks and Sirius stopped at the door, turning and looking at the pair with worried eyes.

"You guys don't understand how scared I am. How scared I am for being a muggleborn. You don't know what its like to have that fear, the fear that bigots like Death Eaters are going to come after me just because I was born into a non-wizarding family." Hermione cried, overcome with emotion. "I love you all, you're all my best friends. Viktor, you're my husband and my best friend, but you don't know what its like. Harry, we've been friends since the very first train ride to Hogwarts, all those years ago when we were in the same compartment. Roger, your wife, Lisa, who I spent all those days and nights in the library with, we know each other like the back of our hands, but this…this you and her don't know what its like. Not because you're ignorant or anything, but you're not muggleborn." Her eyes flicked to each and every person in the room. "You're all purebloods."

"Hermione," Harry said softly, taking a step closer to her. "Nymphadora and I aren't…"

Hermione put her hand up to stop him. "I know, Harry, I know. But you have the Potter name to hide behind, and you haven't been very forthcoming with the fact that you're mother was a muggleborn. It's not your fault, really, because it wasn't like you were hiding it, but still…how many people, besides us and a few others, know that you're not a pureblood?"

"I…." Harry floundered, not knowing how to respond.

"No, Harry, you have nothing to be ashamed of, so don't be." Hermione said, sighing. "I'm just nervous, that's all. I've been considered a good witch, and now I, unfortunately, am going to have to prove myself, and I'm just worried about failure, because that equals death, and I can't stand the thought of losing any of you." Viktor wrapped his wife in a hug, whispering something in her ear inaudibly to the rest of the group; whatever it was that he said it made her smile, relax.

A few hours later, Harry sat in Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster sitting behind his desk, the portraits all looking down at them curiously, hoping they talked about something interesting. "You still don't know why Voldemort tried to kill you as a child, do you, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned, his voice soft. "Over the years, that is a question that has not come out of your mouth while in my presence, has it? No," Dumbledore gave a small laugh. "Never, not once, have you asked, knowing that whatever the answer was, it wouldn't change anything. That, however, couldn't be farther from the truth, my boy."

"What are you talking about? I thought Voldemort attacked my parents because they annoyed him or something—what with escaping from him as many times as they did." Harry replied, not really knowing where this was going; nonetheless, however, a knot was tying itself around the pit of his stomach, slowly clenching it down.

"There was a prophecy, Harry." Dumbledore said, slowly. "A prophecy that was made over twenty years ago in my presence. It is a prophecy that came just after you were born, the same one that Voldemort knows of, but not its entirety. It is the very reason why he attacked you, Harry, not your parents: you. That night he went to your house, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy, but discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired."

"What does it say?" Harry asked, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "What does the prophecy say?" A nudging feeling was in his heart and mind, like he already knew what the prophecy said; as if what it would tell him wasn't something he didn't know.

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead, speaking in a voice that carried both wisdom and age. "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can life while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_"

"How many other people know of this prophecy, Albus?" Harry muttered, his voice venomous. His eyes were closed tightly, and his left foot was tapping the floor, quickly, in either nerves or anger.

"I am the only person who knows its full contents, other than you, Harry." Dumbledore answered. "Voldemort knows only part of it, as he was told of it by a Death Eater who only heard part of it, himself."

"How could you do this?" Harry growled; he rose to his feet and finally allowed the anger that was boiling up come out. "What would have happened if you would have died before Voldemort returned, huh? We would be fighting a battle that the fates had already written that we couldn't possibly win."

"I took the proper precautions to make sure you would have known in case of my death, Harry." Dumbledore replied, staring at the boy with his normally twinkling eyes. The twinkle was gone, and for the first time since Harry knew him, the great wizard Albus Dumbledore was showing his age. "Even now, Harry, those precautions are still in effect. When I pass from this world, you will be informed about all that you need to know to fight Voldemort."

"All this time." Harry mumbled, remembering his teenage years: there always seemed to be someone guarding him or otherwise protecting him—Mrs. Figg, Tom the barman, Dedalus Diggle, and even Remus. "You've been watching over me since I was left at the Dursleys. You've been protecting me from Death Eaters, knowing that one day I would have to live up to this prophecy."

"I've protected you, Harry, because I care. Maybe even too much." Dumbledore replied, solemnly. "I think of you as a grandson, a member of a family I never had."

Harry's eyes flashed for a second, startled by what the Headmaster had said. "Okay," Harry took a breath, rubbing his eyes and suppressing his anger. Being angry wouldn't do him or the wizarding world any good, after all. "So I have to kill Voldemort or he'll kill me and become immortal, right?"

"That could be one interpretation." Dumbledore nodded. "Another could be that, due to the nature of the prophecy—since it's a self-fulfilling one—that he could still die if he kills you."

"How did he survive the first time his body was destroyed?" Harry questioned, wondering just what it was that Voldemort had done to make himself immortal. He knew the basics when it came to Voldemort, his real name, what he did while in school, and his actions as Lord Voldemort, but the two never went into depth before.

Dumbledore looked down at Harry, biting his lip slightly. Closing his eyes, he mentally debated with himself about something. Then, without opening his blue eyes up, he said, "Horcruxes, Harry."

"A receptacle for the soul?" Harry questioned, having only read about them once in a book that Dumbledore had given to him just weeks ago. He didn't know anything about them other than their purpose, so his knowledge was very rudimentary. Although, even so, he knew more about them than most wizards did.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, adding, "A Horcrux is an item wizard's store a piece of their soul in as a way to attain immortality. In order for them to tear their soul, Harry, one must commit the darkest of all dark: one must kill someone." He said, knowledgably, disgusted at the thought of the darkest magic in existence. He hated it so much that, when he became Headmaster, he banned it from the halls of Hogwarts, preventing anyone from learning about the process all together.

"So he tore his soul in two?" Harry asked, knowing that Voldemort's Horcruxes would have to be destroyed if the Dark Lord were to perish, truly perish, unlike last time. If they attacked Voldemort's body, without touching his Horcruxes, his soul would stay on this plain of existence, immortal, eternal, though without body.

"I believe," Dumbledore replied, rising from his chair and heading to the cabinet that was across the room. Opening it up, he reached into it and grabbed a large stone basin covered in mystic ruins. Inside the basin was a silver substance that was neither liquid nor smoke; it seemed to be a mixture of both. He carried the pensieve, for that's what it was, over to his desk, placing it down in front of Harry. "That he has created six Horcruxes, with the seventh part of his soul being connected to the body he inhabits."

"Seven?" Harry gasped, eyes bulging out. From what he knew, it was extremely difficult magic to accomplish one Horcrux, but seven? He couldn't even dream of something like that before today. "How do you know? I mean I know the magical connotations of the number seven, with it being a very, very powerfully magical number, but how do you know he's split his soul in seven?"

"Does the name Horace Slughorn mean anything to you, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned, wondering if that name would stir in Harry's mind. Harry bit his lip in thought, then shook his head, not knowing who that was. "He was a teacher here at Hogwarts for a very long time. He taught potions for over forty years, and was head of the Slytherin house for half that time. Just before he died over three years ago, he gave me a memory of a conversation that he had had with a student. That student was, of course, none other than Tom Riddle. Now," He said, stirring the contents of the pensieve with his wand. "This was no ordinary conversation. No, instead it was a conversation that gives us almost undeniable proof of Tom Riddle's Horcruxes."

Dumbledore flicked his wand, and prodded the silvery substance with its tip. Two figures rose out of the pensieve, each revolving slowly, their feet were still in the basin. _"…Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven--?" A young voice said, cautiously._

"_Merlin's beard, Tom!" Yelped another, much older voice. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case…bad enough to divide the soul…but to rip it into seven pieces…"_

"He really did it, then?" Harry muttered as the figures subsided back into the pensieve, allowing Harry to see Dumbledore's face again. "Seven, wow." Harry whispered; amazed at the length Voldemort was willing to go for immortality. "How did you find out that he even made one, though? Surely there must have been a reason for you to know that he had made some."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded, reaching into the top drawer of his desk and pulling out a brown leather-bound diary, with gold lettering on the front. In neat, elegant cursive, it said: T.M. Riddle. "If you remember during your second year, a note was written on the wall saying the Chamber of Secrets had been reopened. There was that one attack on Mrs. Norris—Caretaker Filch's cat—but none other; the Chamber must have been resealed. A week after that note was left, Argus found a girl's wash room flooding, and found this lodged inside one of the toilets." He gestured to the journal, shifting his gaze back to it. "I happened to be lucky enough to see it one day, and took it back to my office, examining it, allowing me to view one of Voldemort's Horcruxes for the first time."

"That's one of them?" Harry questioned, taking the journal in his own hands. It looked ordinary; the pages were yellow, and no writing was on them. "Why would he pick a journal?" Harry asked, putting the diary back onto the desk. Then, adding, "Why haven't you destroyed it yet?"

"I believe, Harry, that Voldemort picked items in which showed his own superiority or trophies from his victims to be used as Horcruxes. This shows the world that he rose from a completely muggle upbringing, to being known as one of the greatest and most feared wizards of the age. It also shows that he is the heir of Slytherin, and that it was he who opened the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago; likewise, it was him that opened the Chamber during your second year, albeit through a possessed proxy." Dumbledore gave a sigh, patting the journal with his right hand. "As for your other question, why I haven't destroyed it yet: well, I've been wheedling information out of it for a while now, a long and tedious task, making sure the Tom inside doesn't realize anything."

"So Tom Riddle, Voldemort, is descended from Slytherin, for he is the heir if he opened the Chamber of Secrets, correct?" Harry mused out loud, asking Dumbledore the question that was on his mind, though he knew the answer already. "Riddle, though, isn't a pureblooded name, is it? I've never heard of the name Riddle before."

"No, Harry, it's not." Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. "Tom Marvolo Riddle is a half-blood—son of muggle Tom Riddle and witch Merope Gaunt."

"He's related to the Gaunts?" Harry questioned, knowing that name. It was an old pureblood name that lost its clout over a hundred years ago, and, to his knowledge, had died out in the early nineteen hundreds.

"And it is through them that he hails directly from Salazar Slytherin. It is through them that he inherited the power of speech with snakes, as well." Dumbledore said, knowing Harry's train of thought.

"His Horcruxes, do we have any idea of where they could possibly be?" Harry inquired, his eyes flicking down to the journal that was on Dumbledore's desk.

"Ah," Dumbledore mumbled, smiling. "That is a discussion for another day, Harry. It is time that we went to Grimmauld Place and fortified the house." He said, rising to his feet, and walking over to the fireplace.


	22. Hoarding the wizards and witches

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I hope you all remember Lilyre, Wayne, Terry, and Despereaux. If not, the first three were at Harry's bachelor party and Despereaux was mentioned there, as well. You might want to go back and read those chapters, because they're all making their appearances soon.

S/N 2: Now, this is the last chapter of the story that doesn't have a magical duel or fighting of some-sort, so the best is right around the corner, don't you fret.

Chapter 22: Hoarding the wizards and witches

And, with flash of green flames, he was gone, leaving Harry alone in his office. Sighing, Harry followed the old Headmaster to Grimmauld place, walking into the kitchen once he arrived; Sirius and Dumbledore were standing by the small table that was situated in the corner. "I think we can get started now, Sirius." Dumbledore said, taking out his wand: it was holly, 11 inches, supple, with a phoenix feather as a core—that feather happened to be from Dumbledore's very own phoenix, Fawkes. Even so, Fawkes didn't give Dumbledore the feather to be made into a wand personally; no, the pair's friendship happened after Dumbledore had received the wand when he was eleven years old.

Harry looked around, noticing that everyone had left, and it was just Sirius, Albus, and himself. "Harry, how about you go around and do the basic spells, while I speak with Sirius about being the Secret-Keeper for a moment." Dumbledore ordered, putting his arm around Sirius' shoulder, and guiding him into the sitting room as they conversed in whispers.

Harry nodded, taking out his own wand, and strolling all around the house: from the attic to the basement, from the front door to the back. "Salvio Hexia…Protego Totalum…Repello Muggletum…Protego Horribilis...Nullevanesco..." He recited, as little disturbances rippled in the air, as if he had cast a heat haze upon the house. "Cave Inimicum," He finished, with a skyward flourish. Then, pocketing his ebony wand, he headed back to where Sirius and Dumbledore stood, performing one of the most complex charms and wards magic had.

Dumbledore swished and swirled his wand, muttering ancient incantations. Harry heard a weird rushing noise, as though Dumbledore had unleashed the power of the wind into the house. For a brief moment, everything dissolved in Harry's eyes; he could see not the house he was just in, nor Sirius or Albus, but then, a second later, they reappeared, having not moved, neither seeming to notice what had happened. "The Order members will need to be told." Dumbledore said, looking slightly warn out, having finished the spell. His old body wasn't what it used to be.

"I know," Sirius muttered, flicking his wand out to the portrait of a troll that hung above the fireplace. It swung open, revealing a small safe-like cubby behind it. With another flick of his wand, the portrait dropped from the wall, and levitated towards him. He turned, and headed up the stairs, appearing in Regulus' room a second later. There, slumbering in the chair painted in the background was his brother, looking stately and aristocratic as ever, even as he slept. "Regulus, I'm moving you." Sirius said, flicking his wand, and switching Regulus' portrait with the troll that he had brought up from downstairs.

"Where to?" Regulus questioned, having awoken at the sound of his brother's voice. He watched as Sirius levitated his portrait down the stairs, and into the first floor sitting room that housed the floo connected fireplace; it was the main room of the house, being able to see it from the front door entrance. "Guarding the safe?"

"You're the only one I trust doing it." Sirius replied, hanging Regulus up onto the wall, making sure to cover the vault-like cavity that was in the wall. It was five feet high, five feet wide, and had five feet depth—though that could be expanded if needed. "Plus," Sirius added. "You can keep tabs on what's going on easier, right? Instead of needing to confiscate the troll's picture."

"Thank you," Regulus said, honored that his brother was allowing him such a privilege. He didn't know what Sirius was going to put in the safe, but he knew it was important if the wizard was going to such lengths to protect it. He nodded to both Harry and Dumbledore, who were off to the side, whispering amongst themselves, while they watched Sirius work.

"Presidium Verbum," Sirius muttered, moving his wand in a circular motion. Regulus' frame glowed dully for a few seconds, then Sirius said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

"Verbum?" Harry questioned, a wry grin on his face. "I would have used the Dictum charm." Harry said, shrugging a little.

Sirius smiled, shaking his head; his long black hair waved around in the air. "Dictum has more counter-spells and counter-jinxes than Verbum does. That's why we used the Verbum on the Marauders' map." Harry cocked an eyebrow, but stayed silent on the matter, content to argue the matter in his own head.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said, holding a piece of parchment and a quill in his hands. "I need you to write down the secret, I will personally deliver it to the old gang. Harry," He flicked his eyes over to the younger wizard. "I trust you can tell the people you recruited, yes?"

Harry nodded, wondering what it was that Dumbledore had in mind. He stood there, watching Sirius write the secret down on a piece of paper, and then handing it off to the Headmaster. The man left a few seconds later, never saying another word, instead just waving his goodbye. "We should go and tell people the secret." Harry said after a few moments of silence. "We should start with our spy, and for that we need to go to my den."

Together, they flooed to Harry's manor, walking up to Harry's den with a quickened pace, knowing that they would need to hurry. "I invented my first charm during my sixth year. Dumbledore challenged me to do it, and I did." Harry randomly said, as they neared their destination. Though it was random to Sirius, the wizard had a point in saying it.

"What is it?" Sirius questioned. He remembered back to his days in Hogwarts, when the greasy snake Snape had invented spells, one of them being used by the school as a whole after Snape had used it on James. James and Sirius, of course, had stolen it, and then bewitched it upon Snape whenever they got the chance.

"I call it the Appearian charm." Harry said, stepping into the room and crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Let's say we have two pieces of paper, right? I have one and you have the other. Now, after charming the two papers, whatever I would write on my sheet would appear on yours, and vice versa. We could literally be across the world from each other, and be able to hold a conversation through writing quicker than it would take to floo to each other, and have the same talk in person." Harry answered, explaining his charm.

"And this is how you're going to contact your spy?" Sirius asked, rather impressed. It was a very clever charm, not unlike the charmed mirrors him and James had when they were in Hogwarts: they allowed them to see and hear each other, no matter where they were.

"Yes," Harry said, taking a seat at his desk and taking out his wand. He pointed it at the top drawer and whispered, "Aperio." The Aperio charm was a more powerful 'Alohomora', bypassing a lot more counter jinxes and curses that people put up to guard doors and such. The drawer popped open, revealing a single black leather journal: there was no title on it, and its pages were yellow and unmarked with writing. "This is one of two charmed journals that allowed us to talk."

"Clever." Sirius mumbled as Harry grabbed a quill and an inkbottle. The wizard turned, and strolled over to the windows: his gray gaze resting on the outside world. It was changing out there, he could feel it; a storm was coming, just like it had last time Voldemort was in power.

"_Are you there?"_ Harry wrote in his journal, leaning back in his chair and waiting for a response. Sirius stood a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, staring out of the window to the crashing waves a hundred feet below. The words shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished.

"_Yes,"_ A reply came oozing out of the pages in its own black ink, neatly scrawled a minute later; words Harry had never written. Like Harry's writing just seconds before, the response vanished after shining brightly.

"_Just you?"_ Harry questioned in text, making sure the man was alone. If he wasn't, if there were other Death Eaters, other people in the room, his plan, his idea of having Sirius write the secret down would be null and void, and he couldn't chance it.

"_Yes, I'm in my office; Queenie's out with Tracey, shopping."_ He wrote back, quickly. Then, as if added as an after thought, a word appeared, making Harry smile and sigh. _"Snowpaw."_

"Sirius," Harry said, out loud. Sirius turned towards Harry, crossing across the room to stand next to the desk; his gray eyes locked on the journal. Then, picking the quill back up, Harry wrote, _"Good, Sirius is going to write where the headquarters is, make sure it disappears the second you read it: it's the Fidelius charm, and we don't want to risk it."_

"_Of course,"_ He wrote back, understandingly. He knew, now that the line was drawn in the sand of who he was supposedly loyal to, his contact with Harry Potter would consist of talking through the journals and at the meetings; for Death Eaters would give their wand up for the chance to find out their secrets and betray one of their own to be in Voldemort's good graces. _"When is the meeting tomorrow?"_

"_Twelve noon. Here he is,"_ Harry scrawled, passing the quill over to Sirius.

Sirius' penmanship was sloppy and loopy as he wrote his message, passing the secret over to Harry's unknown spy; though Sirius did have a suspicion just who it was—Harry's animagus friend. _"Sirius Black's house, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, is at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."_

"_I remembered it and wiped the message clean, but he's calling."_ Said the black ink, as it appeared on the yellowish paper. _"I'll be there tomorrow."_ Came a last batch of letters before there was no more: the man having closed his journal, and disapparated to Voldemort.

"Good luck." Harry whispered almost inaudibly, closing the journal and tucking away in the top drawer of his desk, locking it shut with a simple reciting of "Colloportus". Then, he rose to his feet, gestured for Sirius to follow him, and strolled out of the room, intent on telling the rest of the Order the secret.

"Malfoy," Voldemort hissed, looking down at his Death Eaters from his throne. He was in a large room, stonewalls were all around him; a few torches were off to the side, not granting very much light, though it suited the Dark Lord. "Your son, Dracon or Draco or whatever, went to school with Harry Potter, did he not?"

"Yes, my lord, he did." Lucius nodded, gesturing to his son who was standing beside him; Draco's back was straight, showing his tall frame, and his hood was up with his mask on. His slicked back blond hair could barely be seen beneath the dark, shadowy cloak.

"Tell me about the boy, Draco." Voldemort sneered; scooting forward in his chair for a better viewing, as if what Draco was going to say was the most important thing in the world. The last time he had seen the boy, the night of his miscalculation, the little runt was but a mere toddler, halfway asleep in his blue pajamas, crying in his crib.

"He was an arrogant berk who thought he was better than what he really was: a stupid mudblood." Draco sneered, losing himself in the hot anger that rose inside of him at the name of Harry Potter. Back in Hogwarts, Potter had swooned and charmed everyone, and they all, teachers and students, saw him as a god, when, in Malfoy's eyes, he was nothing more than a wretched halfblood. Potter didn't deserve anything, let alone all the credit he got for being the wizard he was; Potter was highly overrated.

"You're a fool, Malfoy. You let your jealousy and hatred get the best of you." Voldemort hissed, turning to a group of four huge Death Eaters. "I believe your sons went to school with him, too, right, Crabbe and Goyle? But," He gave them a mocking smirk. "They're probably too stupid to give me any information. Hm, who else." His eyes swept over the group. "Ah, Nott, your son was the same year as Potter, wasn't he?"

"Yes, my lord." Nott nodded, pushing forward a tall and thin Death Eater that was next to him. The Death Eater lowered his head in both fear and respect, as he stepped closer to the Dark Lord.

"I did, my lord." The Death Eater said, slowly. "And, contrary to Malfoy's testament, Potter was a gifted student, and is known to be a clever wizard. Plus, he is regarded as a great Quidditch player. While at school, he was top of our class in all subjects, Prefect, Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, and was awarded the prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting. He was in Ravenclaw, too."

"Ravenclaw, hm?" Voldemort hissed, staring at the wall in thought; his crimson eyes glazed over in concentration. "I would have been in Ravenclaw, you know. If I wasn't the Heir of Slytherin, that is!" He laughed, his Death Eaters joining in with him a second later. Then, with a simple gesture from Voldemort, they stopped abruptly.

"He knows more than that; he went to Potter's wedding! He married my blood traitor of a cousin." Draco snarled, pointing a deadly finger at Nott. How dare Nott upstage him like that! Did he not know that it was dangerous to cross Draco Malfoy?

Nott, still a few feet inside the circle, threw Malfoy a dirty look, speaking before Voldemort could say anything. "Harry Potter, though I loathe to admit it, is a big name in the wizarding world. I knew there would be high status and powerful people there so I attended, wanting to mingle with them to create a name for myself. The great Salazar Slytherin prided students who were ambitious, after all. And, though I'm not related to him by blood for you alone hold that honor, master, I want to believe myself related to him by psyche, sir. I was, am, and will forever be a Slytherin, my lord. But now, my lord, my only ambition is to serve you."

Voldemort looked down at Nott with a calculating gaze before, after a few seconds, he smirked, liking the man already. The wizard had turned it against Malfoy, and now instead of wanting to torture Nott, Malfoy was in the Dark Lord's targets. "Very well." Voldemort nodded, then, turning to Malfoy, he hissed, "Watch your tongue next time, young Draco." His eyes flicked across the room, resting on Snape, who was behind his Death Eater mask like the rest of them. "Snape, what say you? You taught the boy, correct?"

Snape gave a small nod of his head, silkily and almost unnoticeably. "Potter is a surprisingly capable wizard: adept in nearly all branches of magic. His specialty is charm work and charms. He now works as a Hitwizard, if I'm not mistaken."

"Very well," Voldemort mumbled, more to himself than to the Death Eaters. He flicked his hand out, gesturing to the doors. "Leave, now. Crouch, you stay." The Death Eaters bowed, then turned and walked out, apparating back to their homes the second they escaped the wards. Barty waited patiently for Voldemort to speak; the Dark Lord sat in his chair, his chalk-like fingers tapping his pale chin. "We'll need a Wand maker." He said, after a few minutes of silence.

"Do you feel it? Do you feel the mark growing in intensity?" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed, maniacally, from her cell in Azkaban Prison. "Our lord has returned! And us, those who were loyal, those who braved Azkaban for him, will be rewarded like nothing we've ever seen." The group of eleven stirred, some of them for the first time in years. People like Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange had been broken to the point where they were nothing but husks of the men they formerly were; even so, they would get better after being freed from the constant attack of the Dementors. Then there were people like Bellatrix, who had broken to the point where they couldn't think clearly; that wasn't to say that Bellatrix wasn't crazy before she got into Azkaban, she just wasn't as crazy.

"Des…I'm…" Rabastan Lestrange muttered in a desperate and shaky tone, his first words in years. His brown eyes opened, and his body twitched, as if he was making to move. Then, just as he was about to rise into a sitting position, he fell back down, wasted, out of energy. "Soon." He whispered, slipping into slumber on the cold, dirty, and hard stone floor.

"Our lord will free us!" Quirrell bellowed, leaning up against the wall. He was one of the few, having been in Azkaban for ten years, that hadn't had a noticeable change in demeanor. He was loyal, comparable to Bellatrix, and would be willing to serve Voldemort to whatever end the wizard deemed. He crawled over to the cell door, waiting to leave when his master came and freed them. Through the slots in the door he could barely see Bellatrix's cell; she too was sitting near the door, aching to be let go. Then, suddenly, he felt a shiver run down his spine, as a group of black cloaks, vaguely humanoid, came floating down the hallway, making those who were in their range scream out as their worst memories rushed into their mind. He knew it was his fault, for he allowed a sliver of happiness at the thought of his lord enter his mind, giving the beasts known as Dementors reasons to come to him like moths to a flame.

The hall of Azkaban, the one that housed most, if not outright all, Death Eaters were filled with screams of horror and agony. The ones screaming were the more powerful ones: both in mind and body. The others, who just mumbled to themselves and rocked back and forth, were lost in their own little world, too weak to even notice how pathetic they were. Yet, still, even if you counted how many were sane enough to scream—Quirinus Quirrell, Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, and Peter Pettigrew—that was surely enough to cause the ruckus that was echoing off the walls. The screaming persisted for a few minutes longer, until it died down as the inmates passed out from the Dementor attack.

Noontime came around the next day, and wizards and witches arrived at twelve, Grimmauld Place in a flurry. There was Dedalus Diggle with his violet top hat and robes; then there was Elphias Doge, looking as wheezy and aged as ever; of course, Gaetana Robards, who dazzled everyone with her silk robes and long, elegant silver hair; Remus Lupin, looking worse for the wear with bruises and cuts on his face; Severus Snape with his patented sneer of contempt (him and Sirius had to be kept separate from each other); and Kingsley Shacklebolt, with his one hoop earring. They all filed into the basement, taking a seat at a long and ornate table; they were discussing odd things amongst themselves, the meeting not having started yet. "No, I can't, Charlie. I have dinner plans for that night already." Bill said, as he entered the room, talking with his younger brother Charlie; they both took a seat at the end, away from the front of the table.

The room's usual furniture had been removed or otherwise pushed up against the walls, away from sight. Illumination came from a great roaring fire, large and enchanted, at the far end of the room. Dumbledore sat at the head of the table: Sirius was to his immediate left, with Harry to his right. Then, with a burst of the door, a tall, stout man entered the room; the hood of his blue cloak blocking his face from all to see. Immediately, half of the Order jumped up, taking their wands out and pointing them at him, defensively and aggressively. "Sit down," Harry said, softly. "He's a member of the Order. He's a spy for us."

"Now that," Dumbledore looked pointedly at the spy, cocking an amused eyebrow. He didn't know what to call him, since, after all, if he were to call him by his own name, they'd immediately know who it was, and his cover would be blown.

"Kylie." The hooded man said, his voice smooth and silky; it was unlike his natural voice, Harry noted. It was different, charmed somehow, preventing anyone from hearing what he really sounded like.

"Right," Dumbledore nodded, smiling briefly. "Now that Kylie's arrived, we can get started. Severus," His eyes shifted over to Snape, who sat halfway down the table, his arms crossing his chest, as if he was bored. "What news do you have on Voldemort?"

"The Dark Lord was asking about Potter." Snape said, looking from Dumbledore to Harry then back again. "He asked Malfoy, but Draco was so caught up in his hatred that he couldn't answer properly. Then he moved onto Nott."

"Nott?" George, (or was it Fred?), Weasley gasped. "He's a Death Eater? I thought he was an okay bloke."

"What did Nott say?" Cedric questioned, wanting to know what it was that the man had said. He felt a little betrayed, to be honest: sure, he wasn't best friends with Theo, but they were friends, and he had given the man, who had been in Slytherin when he was at Hogwarts, the benefit of the doubt all of the time. Now, upon finding out that he was a Death Eater, it stung; it was like a stab in the back.

"Nothing much, really." Snape shrugged, indifferently. "Just that Potter was an excellently clever and smart wizard, and a good quidditch player. Said that he had received perfect OWLS and NEWTs, and was regarded as one of the finest students in Hogwarts; top of his class, too. That Potter's best subject was charms—that he exceeded in space charms—and then said all of Potter's Hogwarts titles—like Quidditch captain, Prefect, Headboy, etc."

"I believe," The hooded man said, silkily. "That you, yourself, added that he was a 'surprisingly capable wizard'." Snape narrowed his eyes at him, but stayed silent.

"To think I actually liked Nott." Fred, or was it George, muttered, shaking his head.

"Theo should know more than that." Cedric said, looking at Harry—who, up to this time, had stayed silent on the matter. "Maybe he was trying to protect Harry by just telling him the basics, but nothing too deep." He hoped, being overcome with memories of Harry's wedding, when the pair had laughed and partied together, having a wonderful time.

"Nott," The hooded man replied, shifting his shadowy gaze to Cedric. "Is a coward. The reason why he didn't say anything more than that was to make sure he didn't anger the Dark Lord. He did it to save himself, not Harry. Trust me, I know Theo, and he wasn't acting, he really did show contempt for Harry."

A brief smile flashed across Harry's face for a moment, unnoticed by all but Sirius. He had remembered Nott—the man had attended both Harry's bachelor party and his wedding, plus the wizard had gone over to Harry's house for lunch and dinner a few times a week during the summer while Sirius was there. But, by the way Harry was acting, it was as if their friendship wasn't important. Until that small smile appeared, Harry's face was stoic, unemotional, and indifferent. But why was that? Then, the smile disappeared and a frown came onto his face, and Harry's brows were furrowed, as if angry by something.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, moving on. "What do you think will be Voldemort's first plan of action? He's already sent envoys to the giants and werewolves, as have we, but what's next?" The aged wizard inquired, wanting the Order's opinion on things; he was too old to make every decision by himself, he needed their help, their input.

"The werewolves, Albus." Remus reminded, tilting his head to the side. "As we discussed this morning, Greyback was able to get a few of them, but not all: some have yet to make up their mind, still."

"It seems," The hooded man said, making everyone turn towards him. "That the Dark Lord is only trusting Barty Crouch with his plans, as of yet." He stated, looking over to Snape in anticipation of a response.

"He's right." Snape agreed, nodding. "When he told us all to leave, he made Barty stay: whatever it is that he's doing, he was only talking about it with Crouch."

"The Ministry, Albus." Broderick Bode, an Unspeakable, said, making his presence known for the first time. He sat down at the end, in the last seat, on the right side of the wooden table. "Don't you think we should alert them?" He had a sallow, mournful face, and his voice was raspy and grinding.

"I have discussed it with Amelia," Dumbledore replied, staring at the wall across from him. "We both agreed that, for the time being, it's best if we use this time to plan, instead of alerting Voldemort that we know he's back. Rufus Scrimgeour, Pius Thicknesse, and your father, Gaetana," He looked at the witch who sat ten people down: the daughter of Gawain Robards. "Have been told, but those are the only people within the Ministry who know—other than those of us who work there, that is."

"Scrimgeour told Dawlish and I to be in his office first thing tomorrow morning. That's probably the reason why." Shacklebolt said, and then looked over to Harry. "What about the Hitwizards? Has Thicknesse said anything to you?"

"No," Harry replied, shaking his head. "I doubt he will. They want to keep this knowledge under wraps, after all. Having Dawlish know is pushing it, I think, but having Hitwizards know, too? Too much." The wizard said, giving a mocking grunt.

Then, suddenly clutching his left arm, Kylie lurched in his seat. He quietly rolled up his sleeve, and grimaced as he saw his Dark Mark, which was usually a bright red, burning black. His eyes snapped over to Snape, who was cocking an eyebrow, apparently not being summoned. "The Dark Lord calls," Kylie sneered, disgustedly, standing up. He gripped his wand, flicked it towards his robes, and they turned black: like a Death Eater's, they were dark and shadowy, forming against his figure indistinguishably. Reaching into them, he pulled out a mask, it was bony and skull-like, and placed it onto his face, blocking out his identity even more. "I'll keep you informed." He said, exiting the room in a hurry, his robes billowing behind him—the others watching him with their eyes as he left.

"The Dark Lord called him personally." Snape muttered, furrowing his brow. Who was that? Has he gained favor of the Dark Lord already? If that were the case then he would have to be a Death Eater from the first war, wouldn't he? Perhaps Yaxley? Maybe even Rosier? What about the name 'Kylie', what did that have to do with anything? He'd get to the bottom of it, he was sure of that.

Appearing on a small, narrow lane, the Death Eater walked towards a large gate, raising his hand in a kind of salute and walking straight through the metal, as if it were smoke. He continued up to the large manor house, entering the home, and strolling towards the meeting room. Voldemort soon appeared in his throne, as the Death Eater inched towards him. Then, moving swiftly, he got down on one knee, putting his gaze on the floor. "I bet you're wondering why I called you." Voldemort said, looking down at the bowing Death Eater.

"No, my lord." He answered, shaking his head slightly. He didn't dare meet the Dark Lord's gaze, however, instead keeping his eyes strictly on the ground beneath him. "I'm here to serve, and you called me to serve. It matters not the reason."

"Good, good." Voldemort replied, liking the man's servitude; a vicious smirk formed on his pale face. "You are to go with Barty here," He gestured to the wizard next to him. "And kidnap Ollivander, the Wand maker. Make sure no questions are asked, understood?"

"Yes, my lord." The Death Eater nodded in understanding, and rose to his feet. "Shall we?" He questioned Barty, who scowled and walked out of the room. The Death Eater bowed, and left, following Barty closely. "Not that I'm questioning our lord, of course, but why does he need a wand maker?"

Barty gave the man a sideways glance, looking at him with quizzical eyes. "For the Death Eaters in Azkaban." He said, after a moment's silence. "Those who, like me, were loyal to him all this time."

Kylie nodded; knowing that to say anything on the subject would be risky. "Do you have a plan? Because, if you don't, I think I do: we apparate into the work room, wait for him to come back, put him under the Imperius, tell him to close up the shop, then we leave."

"As if we were never there." Barty nodded, a cocky grin forming on his face. Getting past the wards, they nodded to each other and apparated out, appearing in a dusty room: Ollivander's workroom. The room had various tools spread about on the workspace, with the distinct smell of wood lofting about the air. Barty leaned against the wall in the corner, the shadows blocking him from view; Kylie sat on the counter, casually glancing around the room. "Surprising that he doesn't have anti-apparation wards on this place." Barty mumbled, conversationally.

"Arrogant, I imagine." Kylie said back, shrugging. Then, as if he had heard them talking, the door busted open, revealing an aged, white-haired man, with silver moon-like eyes: Ollivander.

"Death Eaters!" Ollivander gasped, his eyes darting around the room as he reached for his wand. Kylie, however, was quicker on the draw, and had it out seconds before the older man.

"Petrificus Totalus," He said, making the old wand maker's body freeze stiff. It was as if time was stopped in Ollivander's mind; his eyes and lips could move, but his body, his arms and legs, were frozen solid.

Ollivander's eyes flicked to the wand, noticing the kind of wood and length. "Eleven inches, vine wood, dragon heartstring. You're…" before he finished, however, a purple gag had been conjured into his mouth by Kylie, stopping him from saying anything else.

"Ah, ah, ah, Ollivander. Can't have you go blabbing all of my secrets away, can we?" Kylie laughed behind his mask, moving his wand in between Ollivander's eyes. "Imperio," He whispered, feeling the effects of the spell overtake Ollivander's mind. A curious sensation shot down his arm, a feeling of tingling warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast. "Good, now go and close your shop: board it up, pretend that you're going away on a business trip or something." Then, with a flick of his wand, he released the old man from the body-bind and watched as he unemotionally walked out of the room, doing as he was told.

"Good work." Barty nodded, impressed. They waited silently for ten minutes before Ollivander came back in, his work completed. The windows of the store had been boarded up, and a sign hung on the door, saying Ollivander would reopen once he returned from a business trip. The doors were locked, and the candles and torches turned off. "Shall we?" Barty questioned, grabbing Ollivander's hand and apparating out. Sighing, Kylie took a last look around the room before he, too, disapparated.

"Who do you think he is?" George asked; his brows furrowed in thought. The meeting had ended, but being an hour or two before dinnertime, Dobby had served up some food: it was light, with tea and cookies, and other pastries.

"Isn't it obvious?" Roger drawled, rolling his eyes. He tossed a cookie into his mouth, munching on it before going on. "Come on, it has to be Wayne, why wouldn't it be?" He said, confidently, knowing that the spy was none other than Wayne Hopkins.

"Vhy vould it be Wayne?" Viktor questioned, wondering what proof Roger had. Harry, having heard the conversation, tilted his head closer, wanting to hear what they had to say.

"He's not here, is he?" Roger answered, smiling, knowing that he was right. Wayne was the perfect candidate; someone who was a good enough wizard so he could protect himself, was loyal to his friends to a fault, and could hide behind his relationship with the pureblooded Spungen girl.

"Neither is Theodore or Lilyre or Terry." Fred rebutted, cocking an eyebrow.

"Theodore is a Death Eater, he wouldn't be here." Roger scowled, anger rising in his belly. He couldn't help but admit, however, that Terry Boot or Lilyre Moon were both good guesses at who the spy was: Moon was a pureblooded name, and Boot was an able wizard in his own right.

"Stop talking, all of you." Cedric muttered. "It's Lilyre, end of story."

"_Can I come by?"_ Appeared in Harry's journal later that night. The black ink glowed for a second, and the title-less journal now read: _The Writing on the Wall_. Immediately, Harry (who was sitting at his desk, going over some things) opened it, reading what had been wrote.

"_Yes,"_ Harry scrawled back, unsurprised that the fireplace on the far side of the study bursted in green flame and out came a wizard. "That was quick." Harry said, closing the journal back up. The wizard just shrugged, taking the seat in front of the desk. "So, how did you come up with the name Kylie? I assume you meant the family Kylie, right?" Harry grinned, biting the end of his quill.

He grinned back, shaking his head. "It was my mother's maiden name. She was a Kylie, so I guess I am a Kylie, too." He answered easily with a shrug of his shoulders; his demeanor was calm, cool, and collected.

"There aren't any Death Eaters from the Kylie family, are there?" Harry questioned, curiously. The Kylies were a pureblooded family that was known for going to the new world back in the sixteen hundreds, and becoming some of the leading figures in the New World's wizarding community.

"No," The wizard replied, furrowing his brows. "Maybe distantly related, but none by name, that's for sure. The Kylies really aren't that big in Britain anymore, you know?"

Harry nodded, changing the topic of conversation. "And? Any news?"

"Ollivander was kidnapped today…by me." He said, giving Harry a small, sad smile. "Apparently I'm high on the food chain for some reason."

"I see, I see." Harry muttered, frowning. Then, looking into the man's eyes, he said, "You don't have to continue, you know. I feel bad, making you do this."

"You're not making me do anything, Harry." He responded, an edge to his voice. "I chose to do this. I chose to take the mark. I chose to help the side of the light—and I'll be damned if people take that away from me."

"Does she know?" Harry asked, wondering if his wife knew about the Dark Mark that was on his left forearm. "Did she blast you to…" He gave the man a sly smile. "The moon when she found out?"

"Have you eaten dinner?" The man questioned abruptly. "I was wondering if you and Nymphadora wanted to come over and eat with us."

"Haven't told her yet, have you?" Harry chuckled, getting up from his chair. Then, heading over to the door, he said, "We'll be over in a few minutes." Harry walked out of the room, and down the stairs, to where he heard voices coming from the sitting room.

"I want you to move in with me, Andromeda: you and Ted." Sirius' voice rang through the air, Harry entering the room and seeing Ted, Andromeda, Nymphadora, and Sirius sitting on the couches, deep in discussion. "Harry was going to ask you, too."

"Just do it, guys." Nymphadora ordered, looking at her parents with both worry and sadness. She just wanted them both to be safe, away from harm, but their egos and courage were getting in the way.

Ted turned to Harry, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow. "And you agree with them on this?" He questioned, somewhat angrily. He was no coward, he wasn't scared, and he didn't need to hide.

"Yes," Harry agreed, nodding his head. "That way we'll all be together, protected, and most of all, safe. Voldemort," Everyone in the room, except Sirius and Harry, gave a small shiver at the name. "Will be coming after you; not only are you a muggleborn, but you're also connected to me. I think of you as a father, Ted, Voldemort will surely learn that from either Malfoy or another Death Eater. I can't risk that."

Andromeda and Ted gave each other a look, as if they were having a silent conversation between themselves. A few moments of silence passed before Ted gave a small, almost unnoticeable tilt of his head. Then, looking up at Sirius, Andromeda said, "We'll do it."

The next day found Andromeda and Ted moving into one of the guest rooms of Grimmauld Place, while the Order of the Phoenix had their meeting in the basement below. More than half of them sat in silence, not knowing what to say or do. With Voldemort's return being a secret, the spies in the Ministry (Hermione, Broderick Bode, Shacklebolt Kingsley) felt rather out of place and useless. Meanwhile, it seemed like only Snape and 'Kylie' had any information at all, with both of them being the only two to actually see Voldemort in person yet.

"He plans on releasing the Death Eaters in Azkaban soon." Kylie said, grimly, saying what all occupants of the table expected to come: the Death Eaters within the confines of Azkaban were his most loyal and powerful, and Voldemort's army would be severely lacking without them. "That's why he needed Ollivander: to make them all new wands since most of theirs were either snapped or lost."

"And it was you who did the kidnapping?" Dumbledore inquired, looking at Kylie with his twinkling blue eyes.

"Yes," Kylie nodded. "Me and Barty Crouch, jr. I made sure he wasn't hurt, and that it looked like I actually wanted to do it to make sure my cover wasn't blown."

"If he's going to be able to stage that massive of a break out, what with twelve of his people in there, that means he'll have to recruit the dementors." Harry stated, biting his lip. He looked over to Dumbledore, wondering what it was they were going to do. They couldn't pull the dementors from Azkaban, because then Voldemort would figure out they knew and he would start a war in earnest, killing innocent people in the process. Then again, they couldn't just sit and allow him his most loyal, his most powerful Death Eaters, could they?

"If he hasn't gotten them already, that is." Shacklebolt said, then, looking around the table, he noticed the only empty seat. Hagrid was the only member of the Order missing from the meeting, being on a mission assigned by Dumbledore. "Any word on the giants yet?"

"I sent them, Hagrid and Olympe, the first gift: Gubraithian Fire. Tomorrow I'll send them another gift then the last one the next day." Dumbledore replied, and looking over to Bill he continued, "What about the goblins, Bill? Any word if Voldemort has approached them?"

"No," Bill shook his head, speaking up for the first time. Him and his brother, Charlie, felt rather useless, not being able to contribute anything to the Order yet._ I guess it comes with the territory of being out of the country for so long_, he thought to himself, having not been able to recognize some of the names of the Death Eaters that Snape and Kylie had said. At last count there were around thirty of them, almost the same number of Order members. "I'm pushing my transfer to the main Gringotts building in Diagon Alley through, however. Once I get that done, I'll be able to keep better watch on the goblin end."

"Good, good." Dumbledore whispered, shuffling his eyes around the table until they fell on Mundungus. "Mundungus, any news on your end? Heard anything?" He questioned, interested in what the smuggler had to say.

The ginger-haired wizard, who was sending up puffs of smoke from his pipe, shook his head, barely awake. "Not that I've heard. He likes keeping quiet, that you-know-who, he does."

Snape sighed, as he felt his forearm burn: he was calling. Looking over to Kylie, he noticed that he, too, was being summoned. "The Dark Lord wants us." He told the group, rising slowly. Kylie rose too, changing his robe color to black, and placing his mask on his already shadowy face. "Till tomorrow." He said, spinning around and strutting out of the room; Kylie following close behind.

Dumbledore watched them leave, before saying. "That is all for today."

Immediately, Dobby, who had been waiting in the corner, snapped his fingers, and plates of sandwiches and jugs of pumpkin juice appeared on the long, polished table. The Order enjoyed their food, making idle conversation to each other. Most of them were friends in one way or another, though there were a few strangers in the group.

"So you mean to tell me that the Italian Ministry is in Genoa, rather than Rome?" Cedric grinned, leaning on his elbow, looking into Gaetana's light green eyes. They had been in Hufflepuff together, albeit she was two years older, but he had always been enamored with her beauty. She had an easy, casual look to her, with her light green eyes, long silver hair, unblemished face with an olive skin tone, and her tall and thin frame; she was truly an Italian beauty.

"Why does everyone think Rome is the only city in Italy?" Gaetana rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that Genoa is just as important and beautiful as Rome is." She muttered, taking pride in her home city. Her father was English, her mother Italian, so she felt both countries were her home. She took a bite out of her sandwich, shaking her head slightly; though, the small grin that was forming on her face betrayed her seeming annoyance.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, another conversation was happening. "Our brother, Ron, is a big fan of yours. Back in Hogwarts, he had all of your posters on his wall." Charlie said, staring at Viktor. "I would get them being that I was around that area due to my work, so it was easy."

"He's captain of the Catapults, isn't he?" Viktor questioned back, remembering Hermione telling him about Ron Weasley; the pair hadn't gotten along in Hogwarts, though it was just teenagers being teenagers, and not a real problem. Upon hearing a familiar name, Viktor turned his attention to the redhead sitting next to Charlie: Bill Weasley. "Did you just say Fleur Delacour?"

"Yeah," Bill nodded, cocking an eyebrow. "She's my, well, my girlfriend I guess you could say." He laughed, almost nervously. "Her friend, Despereaux, is coming to stay with her for a few days tomorrow."

"Despereaux Barnaud?" Roger asked quickly from across the table, a few feet down.

"Yeah," Bill replied, biting his lip, his brows furrowed. "I think that's his last name, why?" He questioned, confusedly.

"Ugh." Roger sighed, getting up from his chair and walking out of the room. Cedric laughed, having seen Roger leave, then turned his attention back to Gaetana. He gave her a charming smile, his gray eyes fixated on her, and she just rolled her eyes, though a small blush was playing on her rosy cheeks.

The rest of the day passed with relatively little information. Snape and Kylie had both come back from their meeting with the Dark Lord saying that Voldemort had only laughed and said the circle was complete, before dismissing everybody. No one knew what that meant, though Dumbledore and Harry had a semblance of an idea, a sneaking suspicion of what the Dark Lord's intentions were when he said it.

AN: Spells

Presidium Verbum- Guard Word in Latin. It basically only allows a portrait or some other spelled objects to open or reveal its secrets if the correct words are spoken. The Fat-Lady in front of the Gryffindor Common room has this spell in my story.

Aperio- Open in Latin. It's just a more powerful unlocking charm.


	23. Run to and fro

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Well, Despereaux makes his first appearance in this chapter, and you find out why he's such an important character to this story.

S/N 2: Three new characters will be becoming bigger characters now, who each have plots and storylines for themselves, beginning with this chapter: Despereaux, Rabastan, and Quirrell.

Chapter 23: Run to and fro

In a cottage that stood alone on a cliff overlooking the sea, Bill Weasley waited patiently in the sitting room, his gaze focused on the fireplace that adorned the far wall. The walls were covered in shells and were whitewashed, clean and professional. It was a lonely and beautiful place, and the constant ebb and flow of the sea could be heard from everywhere on the property. It was like the breathing of a great, slumbering creature, its lungs eternally going up and down, perpetually rising and falling. It had been his home for a few weeks now, just over six, and he had come to adore it with such great passion that he couldn't stand that he hadn't lived in it for longer, for all of his adult life.

Suddenly, the fire burned green and out stepped Fleur Delacour, her blonde hair framing her face, and soon followed by a man, presumably Despereaux Barnaud. The man, who was dressed in royal blue robes, had curly brown hair, brown eyes, and a slight stubble, though he wore it well. He was of slight stature and medium-height, smaller than Bill was, but in no way short. All in all, he was a pretty handsome wizard. "Bill!" Fleur cooed in her French accent, rushing over to the redheaded man with a large smile.

"Hello Fleur." Bill grinned, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Looking over her shoulder, he waved to the man, warmly and invitingly. "You must be Despereaux." He said, as Despereaux returned the wave with a smile.

"Bill, I presume." Despereaux replied, politely, his accent surprisingly not as thick as Fleur's. The pair shook each other's hands, introducing one another: Despereaux's grip was tight and respectful, and he made eye contact with Bill the whole time. Bill gestured to the kitchen, where a dinner spread was laid out, waiting for people to eat it. There was a chicken and ham pie, served with boiled potatoes and salad, and a silver pitcher of pumpkin juice. After pouring three glasses of juice, Despereaux grabbed his cup and raised it into the air in a kind of toast. "To a good dinner and weekend." He said, smiling and taking a sip, Bill and Fleur following suit.

"Harry," Tonks said, quietly, as she stood at the door of the library; Harry was sitting at his desk, perusing some papers. Her voice was soft and hesitant, though not warningly so. She waited patiently for him to respond as she played with her fingers.

"Hm?" Harry replied, not looking up. He dipped his quill into an inkbottle as he wrote a few words on an envelope. _Harry Potter, Hitwizard_, he scrawled in neat, elegant script on the manila folder.

Tonks took a breath, and gulped down the ball that was in her throat. She came into the room, slowly, inching closer and closer to Harry's position. Harry put his quill down, and flicked his gaze up towards her, smiling pleasantly. "I think…" She said, nervously, stuttering slightly. "No, not I think, I know that…that I'm pregnant."

Harry's jaw fell open as he stared at Nymphadora with wide, curious eyes. "You're serious?" He questioned, surprised. Seeing her tentative nod, he grinned, jumped up and raced towards her, engulfing her in a hug, twirling her around in the air. "Really?" He asked as excitement rushed inside of him, filling him with energy and adrenaline.

"Yes!" Tonks giggled, allowing Harry to spin her around. Harry put her down, looked into her eyes and kissed her, deeply and passionately, tasting her familiar flavor. "I love you." Tonks whispered, breaking apart. "I love you so much."

"And I you." Harry said, reaching down and running a hand over Tonks' stomach. Then, as if struck by lightning, Harry jolted away, looking at Tonks with fear and sadness, a mix of emotions. "You're not leaving the house. With Voldemort out there, it's too dangerous; too dangerous for you and our child."

"What?" Tonks replied, confusedly, stricken by the turn of events. Just seconds ago, he was so happy, so thrilled at the prospect of having a child, of having a baby. Now it seemed as if he was revolted, scared, and nervous. Did he think that less of her, that she couldn't handle herself, nor protect her child? Surely he was joking, wasn't he?

"Voldemort will go after you, to hurt me, to make me suffer." Harry said, turning around, not bearing to look at Nymphadora. Memories of growing up in the Dursley's house came rushing into his mind, flooding his thoughts and emotions with their terrible and wicked afflictions. They would lock him in the cupboard for hours on end, not even feeding him or granting him access to the bathroom. The only things he had to entertain himself as a young child were dead spiders and pieces of wood that were chipped off of the stairs.

"And that's different from the way things are with me only being your wife, rather than your pregnant wife, how exactly?" Tonks rebutted, her voice like venom. She was a good Auror, maybe no Kingsley, but still, she was good, how dare he treat her like a child! She knew, in her heart of hearts, however, that his intentions were good, but still.

"It just is, okay!" Harry shouted, his back still to Tonks. His reaction, which was so vehemently emotional, immediately made Tonks realize that there was something deeper to this, something that went past him and Tonks. Tonks moved forward, putting her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly. "I just…I just don't want whatever kids we have to not know us, okay? I just want our child to grow up with at least one parent."

His mind couldn't help but drift off to the prophecy that loomed above him, the one that steered his fate. '_One must die at the hands of the other…for neither can live while the other survives…'_ There was a serious possibility that he would die, die at Voldemort's hand, at the Dark Lord's feet. And if that ended up being his destiny, his fate, he wanted to make sure his son or daughter would know the love of his parents, unlike when Harry was growing up. The Dursleys had told Harry that his parents were nobodies, that they were losers and bums who had got what they deserved when they died in the 'car crash'—though, and Harry had found this out the first day in the wizarding world, that that couldn't be farther from the truth. And now, knowing what he knew, it hurt him to think that he would never know the touch of his mother, or be able to go flying with his father: it was a fate he didn't want his child to have.

"Harry, that won't happen to us, okay, but I will not stay inside and hide like a coward." Tonks said with an edge to her voice. She understood his feelings, really she did, but they deviated from hers so immensely that she couldn't stay mum about it. "I don't want our baby growing up in a world with You-Know-Who in it, Harry, and I'm willing to give my life to make sure he or she never has to live with that."

"I…I…" Harry whispered, turning around and looking at Nymphadora: tears were in his green, emerald-like eyes. "I'm sorry, all right." He cried; she tenderly wrapped her arms around him, allowing the man to cry into her shoulder. "I'm just so worried for you, for us, for everyone."

"I know, honey, I know." Tonks cooed, kissing his head. He cried for a few more minutes, releasing all the pent up emotions inside of him, before stopping, a small smile coming onto his face. "We're going to have a baby!" Tonks giggled, knowing what he was thinking. Harry grabbed her hand and dragged her down to the kitchen, celebrating with some ice cream and butter beer.

They stayed up for hours, until the early morning, just talking, imagining what it would be like as parents. Harry, admittedly, wanted a boy, while Tonks wanted a girl. Of course, however premature it was, the conversation couldn't help but change to possible names. Nymphadora, absolutely abhorring her name, wanted to make sure her child wouldn't have a name like hers—though Harry loved her name, finding it charmingly original. "Fine, let's make a deal." Harry said, slowly, as a grin appeared on his face. "Whatever children we have, I get to choose the names for the boys and you can choose the names for the girls, deal?"

Tonks thought about it for a few moments before nodding, shaking Harry's outstretched hand. "Deal." She said, knowing that she had a fifty percent chance of having a child grow up with a normal name like Jasmine or Allegra. Harry, she thought, wouldn't go too extravagant with his names, though she knew he would definitely go the wizarding angle. "I can't wait for her to grow up so I can give her my tiara—just like my mother did for me."

"Her?" Harry whispered, cocking an amused eyebrow. "How do you know it's going to be a girl?" He questioned, smiling at his wife.

"A feeling." Nymphadora shrugged, grinning. She leaned in, resting on Harry's chest. They laid there for a few minutes, both with their eyes closed before they fell into a deep slumber, having no idea of what the next day would bring.

The Order of Phoenix found out just what Voldemort had meant the next morning, with the arrival of the Daily Prophet. "There's been a mass breakout at Azkaban...twelve Death Eaters have escaped." Bill Weasley said, grimly, as Fleur and Despereaux walked into the kitchen—he was sitting at the table, reading the paper.

Despereaux's eyes went wide, his face lost all its color, and he had small, hate filled scowl on his otherwise handsome face. "The Lestranges...did they escape, too?" He questioned, his face ashen, his voice hoarse. His hands seemed the to be trembling, with either rage or fright, Bill did not know which.

Bill ran a finger over the mug shots and profiles of the escapees: There was Antonin Dolohov, who had a pale, long and twisted face, incarcerated for killing Bill's maternal Uncles, Gideon and Fabian Prewett; Peter Pettigrew, a balding wizard, convicted of killing 13 muggles; Quirinus Quirrell, who was turban-less in his picture, imprisoned for using the Unforgivables on the teachers of Hogwarts; Augustus Rookwood, Voldemort's spy, put in Azkaban for spying on the Ministry; Travers, who looked bored in his picture, thrown into prison for killing Marlene McKinnon and her family; Mulciber, who, like Travers, looked bored in his picture, was placed in Azkaban for being Voldemort's Imperius curse specialist; Jugson and Gibbon, who were screaming in their mugshots, then laughing it off, both put in for various dark deeds and Death Eater actions; Avery, sr., who was aged and stooped, convicted of burning down a muggle village in Scotland; and, finally, the three Lestranges, all convicted of torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom—Bellatrix, who was smiling arrogantly in her picture; Rodolphus, who was thickset and staring blankly towards the camera; and Rabastan, who was thinner than his older brother, and his eyes were shifting all about, almost nervous-like.

"Yes," Bill nodded, looking up at Despereaux. "They did, why?" He asked, wondering why the wizard would ask specifically for those three; their crimes were heinous and horrendous, sure, but they weren't that much different from the other crimes that imprisoned the Death Eaters in Azkaban.

"I've...I've got to go." Despereaux replied, now completely white and sweaty. He went to turn, but was stopped by Fleur's hand on his arm. "Please, let me leave." He said, almost in a begging tone.

"What's going on?" Bill questioned in a mix of worry and confusion. It looked as if Despereaux had had a fever come over him in seconds. He saw Fleur give a slight nod of her head to Despereaux, and the man sighed as a result.

"Rabastan Lestrange," He said, turning back around to look at Bill; his eyes were dull and listless, and had a flame of anger in them that flared up every so often. "Is my father. My real name is Despereaux Lestrange; my mother's name is Solange Barnaud. I use her name because, well, I'm ashamed of what my father did."

"Wow," Bill whispered, looking back down at Rabastan's picture; there was a resemblance there that he hadn't noticed beforehand. But now, knowing what he knew, he could see the pair shared the same face structure, and the same dark eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Despereaux replied, dropping down into one of the seats. "Unlike my uncle, Rodolphus, who went to Hogwarts, my father went to Beauxbatons, where he met my mother. They got married, and a year after they left school, I was born. His father, my grandfather (who died a few days after), and brother called on him to come back to England and become a Death Eater—because he, too, believed in pureblood supremacy—and, like a lost dog, he went running back. Well, my mother wasn't too thrilled with that, so she changed her name back to Barnaud, mine as well, and took care of me on her own. Almost a year and a half later, the Dark Lord fell, and my father was being carted away to Azkaban for torturing information out of two Aurors." Fleur reached out, and grabbed Despereaux's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Fleur, here, is the only one who knows that I'm a Lestrange."

Bill cocked an eyebrow, continuing to stare down at Rabastan Lestrange's picture. Unlike his brother and sister-in-law, Rabastan seemed a little apprehensive in his picture, like he didn't want to be there, or not a hundred percent at the very least; where as the other two Lestranges' eyes were locked in a steely resolve. "Why, and I hope I'm not stepping on your toes by asking this, did your father go to Beauxbatons?" Bill asked, genuinely curious.

Despereaux gave a small, sad smile. "His father and mother made a deal: one child would go to Hogwarts, the other would go to Beauxbatons. You see his mother, my grandmother, was a French witch who went to Beauxbatons. The Lestranges immigrated to England from France just a few generations ago."

"So what now?" Bill inquired. "Are you going to go back to France, hoping to stay away from Rabastan until he's caught or killed or given the Dementor's kiss?" Bill asked, though, in the wizard's mind, he knew that the Dementors had gone over to Voldemort's side, just like Harry had said.

Despereaux's eyes flicked over to Fleur as she quirked an elegant eyebrow up at him, seemingly daring him to do something. Then, taking a breath, he said, "No, I'll stay. If he wants me, he can come get me."

Sirius threw the Daily Prophet down on the table, disgusted. How the Ministry could rely on such foul, loathsome creatures like the Dementors to guard their prisoners were beyond him. Though, admittedly, he knew that the Dementors, when loyal, were very, very good at what they did. Now, however, with them going over to Voldemort's side, the Dark Lord had twelve of his most powerful and loyal servants back on his side; those who had been loyal to him all this time, including Pettigrew. Sighing, he fell into the chair, grabbing a muffin on his way down. Andomeda and Ted sat across from him, all the way at the other end of the long, polished table. He wanted to eat alone today, being sick to his stomach by the other Azkaban escapes.

"You-know-who acted a lot quicker than Harry thought he would, didn't he?" He heard Andromeda ask, though she wasn't really expecting an answer. He knew she was asking because it had stressed Harry out before when Tonks had told him before he went into work.

"I don't know how he thinks this is going to be pushed under the rug. Twelve people escaping the same day isn't something that can be easily shrugged off." Sirius muttered, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice, and then popping a piece of his muffin into his mouth. "Bellatrix will be coming for Nymphadora, you know." He said, staring at Andromeda straight in the eye.

"I know." She replied, softly. Ted bit his lip, hating that his daughter would be a target just because he had been born to muggle parents. "And me and you." She said, knowing that her and Sirius, being blood traitors, would be just as big of a target for Bellatrix to wipe out, pruning them away from her supposedly 'pure' family tree.

"I can take her." Sirius mumbled, knowing that Bellatrix, though a good and powerful witch was not his superior; if anything, they were equals, though Sirius thought himself better. "If not me, or even Nymphadora herself, than Harry surely can, easily." Ted gave a small grin at that, knowing Harry was far better at magic than Bellatrix could ever dream of.

"Potter," Pius Thicknesse, head of the Hitwizards, barked, staring down at the young wizard with his beady eyes. "I want you to find them!" He slammed his hands against the desk, making a few of the devices on it fall off, where they landed on the ground with a soft thud.

"I don't know if I'm going to be able to, Pius." Harry replied, frowning. "You know as well as I do who they're with and how and why they escaped."

"Find them." Pius growled, repeating what he had said just seconds before. It was his job, as the head of the department that caught wizard criminals, to get these escapees back into prison, to hunt and track them down with such vigor that the wizarding society feels safe, knowing that the Hitwizards could do anything.

"I'll try." Harry said, rising to his feet and walking out of the office. He bobbed his head to the other four Hitwizards who were on duty, each sitting in the break room, casually. There were always five on duty, with only thirty-five Hitwizards employed at any given time: no more, no less. Five worked for twenty-four hours straight, once a week, with another team taking over the next day, and then another after that. The cycle kept repeating itself over and over, rarely ever changing.

In a dark, shadowy room stood a tall, cloaked man, with twelve individuals bowing in front of him. The fire that burned on the other side of the room danced off of his chalky, pale, skull-like face. He gave them a vicious grin, his red eyes blazing intensely. "I have granted you, those who were loyal to me, freedom. Lord Voldemort promised to honor those who help him when he gave you your mark, did he not?"

"And we thank you, our lord!" A woman screamed, maniacally; her violet eyes held tears of pride in them. "We knew you would come! We knew you would honor us with your presence." She crawled closer to Voldemort, taking his robes in her dirtied hands and bringing them up to her lips, kissing them softly and lovingly.

"Yes," Voldemort smiled, staring down at Bellatrix. "Now go, Severus has graciously made you the most potent strengthening potions he could; rest, relax, get your powers back for Lord Voldemort will need your services in a short time." They all rose, bowed lowly one last time, and walked out, knowing their Lord would need them soon enough. Voldemort turned, and walked over to his throne, plopping down in it as Nagini slithered out from the corner, wrapping around his shoulders. "Very soon, Nagini, very soon." He hissed, knowing that his plan would come into fruition by the end of the week.

Quietly, the members of the Order of the Phoenix whispered amongst each other as they waited for Albus Dumbledore to arrive. A meeting had been called, and they all rushed to Grimmauld Place, each knowing just what it was they were there to discuss: the breakout of Azkaban. With the exodus of his most powerful servants, Voldemort's ranks had been bolstered immensely, while the Order had been given a deathly blow. Now, being severely outnumbered, the Order would have to fight and recruit without revealing themselves.

Dumbledore appeared a few minutes later, his usually smiling face was wearing a tired and slightly angry mask. "By now, I'm sure we've all heard the news." He said lowly, taking a seat at the head of the table. "What we do from here on out will decide how the side of light faces the war this time around." He looked around the table, scanning their faces for a reaction. "So now we must ask ourselves: what now?"

Later that day, in the twilight hours, Harry walked down Diagon Alley, heading towards Florean Fortescue's for a sundae. With the long day that he had had, he needed something to ease his mind, and nothing was better than an ice cream sundae. Before he reached Florean's, however, someone pulled him into a side alley—the man's long arms all but dragging him away from the public eye. "What the…?" Harry asked, confused, instinctively reaching for his wand.

"Harry," A familiar voice said, easing Harry's nerves a little. Standing there, his eyes downtrodden, was Neville Longbottom, a deep frown lacing his face. "I'm sorry, but I needed to talk to you. I know you're in charge, with Shacklebolt, in finding the escapees of Azkaban, and…I want to help. I want to help you find the Lestranges and the rest of them."

"Neville," Harry replied, gathering his thoughts and taking a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves: he thought it was a Death Eater grabbing him, not a friend. "This is bigger than the escapees. This is bigger than either of us now, I'm afraid. Look, I know, I know about your parents and Bellatrix, but…that's something that I can't focus on right now."

"What are you saying, Harry?" Neville asked, hoping the feeling rising in his chest wasn't real. He couldn't be back, could he?

"Voldemort's returned." Harry told him, looking straight into the man's eyes.

It was like a kick in the chest, a jolt of lightning ran through Neville's body, throwing his mind into disarray. Yet still, with his thoughts scrambled, a well of courage shot up, surprising Neville himself by the reserve that had overtaken him. "Then surely the Order of the Phoenix, the group of wizards my parents were apart of, have come together, right? Surely you, a son of Order members too, one of the best wizards of our age, is apart of it, right? I want in, Harry: I want to fight."

Harry gave Neville the once over before nodding slowly, agreeing. "Meet me at my house later tonight, and we'll discuss it, okay?" Neville grinned, nodded, and walked away, leaving Harry alone in the small alleyway. After a moment, Harry turned and headed towards Florean's, still wanting that sundae.

"Potter," Three figures sneered as he neared Florean's: Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Gregory Goyle. "Isn't it a little too dark for you to be out here? Doesn't your mudblood wife have a curfew for you?" Malfoy laughed, and the others chuckled, too.

"Showing your true colors, aren't you, Nott?" Harry mocked, looking directly into Theodore's eyes. "I would have thought you would have had higher standards than these…" His gaze moved over to Malfoy and Goyle, and his lip curled slightly. "Supposed wizards, who are no better in magic than Filch."

"Watch your back, Potter, because I'll be after it now for that comment." Theodore growled back, gripping his wand underneath his cloak. "You're lucky we're in public, or else I'd kill you on the spot." He sneered, angrily and aggressively.

"If anyone's killing Potter, it's me." Draco hissed, insulted by Harry comparing him with Goyle and Filch. He was a Malfoy by name, a Black by his mother, and a Spungen and a Rosier through his grandmothers: he was practically wizarding royalty in his mind.

"Whatever you say." Harry rolled his eyes, moving to the side and walking past the trio. "You'll be in Azkaban soon enough if you keep threatening me, count on that." _Not too smart, gentlemen, _Harry thought to himself, _you're all but admitting that Voldemort is back. I thought his return was supposed to be a secret._ He didn't look back as he walked into Florean's, not wanting to instigate anything further.

Two new members appeared at the meeting the next day, having been given a slip of paper by Sirius: Despereaux Barnaud and Neville Longbottom. The pair sat, uncomfortably and awkwardly, at the end of the table, the two last seats that had been put their just moments before the start of the meeting. The table was almost full, with only two seats in the middle open, waiting to be taken. The door to the basement swung open, and two figures walked down: one cloaked in blue, the other showing himself as Severus Snape.

Snape's eyes gazed over the table, momentarily narrowing at Sirius, before moving on where they stopped at Neville. A cruel, vicious smirk came on the spy's sallow face. "Longbottom." He said, mockingly, before taking his seat.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, starting the meeting. "As Severus has said, and as you all have noticed I imagine, we have two new members: Despereaux Barnaud and Neville Longbottom." After allowing the pair to say hello, Dumbledore threw the meeting open, as they discussed coming plans, information that they had gathered, and what they believed Voldemort's intentions were from this point on. It was short, not having that much information since Voldemort was still in hiding, but it accomplished what the Order needed.

"A group of Dementors, six total, have stayed in Azkaban, apparently loyal to the Ministry." Shacklebolt supplied, looking up to Dumbledore. "I spoke to them myself, with the Minister, and they shunned the other Dementors, promising that Azkaban would be kept safe for as long as they were there."

"Dementors can talk?" Neville Longbottom questioned, confusedly. He thought they were beasts, unintelligently feeding off the good in the world.

"Not really…it's complicated." Harry answered, turning his attention back to Shacklebolt. "And, what, we're supposed to believe them?" He questioned, knowing that the Dementors were only saying that so they would get the wizarding world to trust them, for when Voldemort's Death Eaters were captured and sent to Azkaban, they'd be able to release them.

"I think," Kingsley replied, slowly, taking his time to gather his thoughts. "That these Dementors know that what they have, free reign on the prisoners in Azkaban, free to suck their emotions out of them, that they know not to blow it. So, for the time being, yes, I think we can believe them." He said, biting his lip, wondering what Harry and Dumbledore thought.

"Dementors should have never been anywhere near Azkaban in the first place." Dumbledore muttered, gazing over the table, almost disinterestedly. He went quiet for a second, then, looking up, he said, "That is all for today." After giving the group a wave, he left the room, returning to his office.

Dobby apparated in with a pop the second Dumbledore left, appearing in the corner, next to the fire. With a snap of his fingers, Dobby served up lunch to the Order members: sandwiches, chips, and jugs of pumpkin juice. Some of them dug in, others left the house, going back to their own homes. "Why does Snape hate you so much?" Gaetana questioned Neville, sitting across from the wizard.

"Because he's a jealous, pathetic vampire." Sirius interjected, scowling at the thought of his archrival Snivellus. Oh how he hated the greasy, sallow wizard.

Neville bit his lip, frowning. "We're related: second cousins, actually. My mother was his mother's cousin, a Prince—Alice Prince."

"Barty," Voldemort commanded. "Bring me Pettigrew." He watched as the Death Eater left the room swiftly, then, a few minutes later, came in with a weary, thin wizard, with balding brown hair and saggy skin. Even with drinking a strengthening potion, the wizard, as with the other escapees of Azkaban, was still a wreck, and barely able stay awake and moving for less than an hour. "Where is my wand, Wormtail?" Voldemort hissed, staring down at the mangled wizard who was bowing in front of him.

Pettigrew looked up at Voldemort, his voice quivering and his body shaking. "Hidden away with my wand, master. I'll go get it straight away, but I'll need a wand to get to them." He said, hoping to please the Dark Lord.

"Very well," Voldemort growled, impressed that Pettigrew had been smart enough to get his wand after his defeat at the Potter's so many years ago. "Someone give him a wand; you will get it back when he returns with his and my wand." He barked, looking up at his Death Eaters. None of them moved. "No volunteers? Lets see…" His eyes swiveled around the room. "Amycus Carrow, give him your wand." He said, a hint of laughter in his high, cruel voice. "Did I not tell you that you would pay for your betrayal?"

"Yes, yes, my lord." Amycus replied, fearfully. He reached into his robes, taking out a white-wooded wand, and passing it to Wormtail, who took it greedily. Wormtail bowed, then scurried out the room, turning into a rat with a pop the second he was outside of the wards. As it was, too many people knew he was a rat animagus due to his trial, but there were still a select few who knew just what he looked like as a rat. With the amount of rats that were in the world, it wasn't a big deal that people knew of the transformation, but his appearance was something that he wanted to keep under wraps, to keep secret and hidden.

He apparated to a wooded area with a small lake off to the side: the place where he had hidden his and Voldemort's wand before joining the Weasley family. Off in the distance, he could hear voices coming from a slanted shack-like house, home of the said family. Illuminating Carrow's wand, he trudged through the leaves and mud, looking for that hollowed out boulder he placed the wands in. Finding it, he swished Carrow's wand above it, canceling out all the spells, curses, jinxes, and charms that he had placed on it all those years ago, which was almost twenty. Again he flicked Carrow's wand, levitating the boulder up, and twisting it over, revealing a small hole in the underbelly.

He reached into it, grabbing the two pieces of wood that were wrapped up in a purple cloth that was meant to protect them. Pettigrew stuck Amycus' wand inside his robes, taking his wand out from the cloth: leaving Voldemort's precious yew wand untouched and unwrapped. He gave one last look at the Burrow, before apparating out, appearing in front of an iron gate. Keeping stride as he walked towards it, he raised his right arm in a kind of salute, and passed through the gate, as if it were made of smoke. He continued up towards his destination, walking over the hilly terrain, and entering the house from the side. A Death Eater raised his wand, guarding the room the others were in, but seeing who it was, he dropped it, allowing Pettigrew passage.

The rat inched into the room, holding the purple cloth out in front of him, hoping to be praised by his devotion to Voldemort. "Ah, Wormtail, back already?" Voldemort said, rising to his feet. He reached out and scooped up his wand, a feeling of power washing over him: he was complete, whole. And now that he, most important and precious, Lord Voldemort, had gotten back part of himself that was missing, the world would tremble at his feet, recognizing their true master.

Rabastan Lestrange wrapped his long, dark cloak over his thin and haggard body. He marched out of his quarters, out of the manor, and out of the wards that surrounded the compound. Gripping his wand, he apparated to the edge of England, just a few miles away from the English Channel. His brown eyes rolled over the land, seemingly searching for something; finding it, he bent down and picked up a medium-sized rock, just big enough to fit in the palm of his hand. "Portus," he whispered, the rock glowing blue and trembling for a minute, before returning to normal. Then, with a pull at his naval, he was gone, disappearing without warning.

He arrived outside of a large, bronze gate that sat upon a hill; a pond with a stream was off to the side, a few ripples came from the middle of the glistening blue water. He reached out to the gate, feeling the magic blocking him before it released, granting him passage: the gate swung open slowly, as if an invisible hand was pulling it. Unsurely, he headed up the stone pathway, inspecting his surroundings as he did. The place looked the same that it did the last time he saw it, a little over twenty-two years ago. As he neared the front door, it was thrown open, and out came a tall, pretty woman with long reddish brown hair and hazel eyes. She had a scowl on her face, and she was holding her wand in a threatening manor, pointing it directly at Rabastan. "What do you want?" She spat at Rabastan, stopping him from his continuation up the path.

"To see you." He said softly, his brown eyes meeting hers. "And to see Despereaux," He added, his gaze going to the ground as if he was ashamed. Her defensive stance instinctively softened a bit, seeing how downtrodden he was, as if he was actually sorry for leaving in the first place. He looked terrible—gone was the handsome and stout man, and instead there was a thin and unkempt wizard, whose face, with its sunken eyes, looked like a decaying corpse. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Solange?" He whispered, shaking his head.

"Twenty-three years, Rabastan." Solange replied, moving over and allowing him entrance to her home. He quickly walked in, not wanting her to rescind her offer. His eyes shifted around the foyer, falling on an older man who stood at the top of the stairs, his arms crossed: Nicolo Barnaud, Solange's father. The man didn't say anything, instead just turned on his heels and walked away, not bothering to give another look to Rabastan. "You didn't expect a warm welcome, did you? Not only did you leave me, leave us, but you're a fugitive on the run: you're lucky I even let you into the estate." Solange said, her eyes staring at the spot her father just was.

"No," Rabastan sighed, shaking his head and turning towards her. "I guess I didn't. Does Despereaux live here? Is he here now?" He questioned, a hint of excitement in his voice: so long, so long he had been in Azkaban for, so long had his thoughts lingered on his one and only son, the boy he never should have left.

Solange's defensive, acidic nature came back, and her eyes narrowed at Rabastan. "No," She growled. "He's in England, visiting a friend."

"England?" Rabastan grunted, as his eyes went wide; it was ironic, he thought, that he had just left that country to see his son, and now his son was where he had left. Then, remembering how he had gotten out of Azkaban in the first place, he gasped. "He's got to get out of there, terrible things are about to happen."

"And you'll be doing them, will you?" Solange rebutted, pulling on his arm and pushing him into the sitting room, where she pointed to a seat across from a couch. She sat on the couch, while he lounged in the chair, easily and tiredly. "Killing mudbloods and muggles alike? Attacking blood traitors, and putting fear in the hearts of the innocent?"

"I spent way too long in Azkaban for Voldemort to give up now, Solange." He replied, his voice even. He didn't take offense by what she said, he never could: she could tell him to die, rot away in a grave, and he still wouldn't get angry with her.

"Even if it costs you your son?" Solange asked, her voice masking its venom. "He was talked into staying by Fleur, and he's going to fight. He floo called me this morning, telling me how he joined this group that is going to fight the Dark Lord."

"Fight to protect mudbloods?" Rabastan questioned, cocking an eyebrow. He couldn't wrap his mind around his son fighting Voldemort—he was proud that Despereaux, his only son, was that brave. Bravery was something that, no matter what side of the fight you were on, was an honorable trait, deserving of praise.

"His best friend is a half-breed, Rabastan, he's not like you or your disgusting brother, and don't even get me started on your sister-in-law." Solange said, mockingly.

"Don't group me in with her." Rabastan growled, repulsed by the thought of him and Bellatrix being alike. "The only trait we share in common is the same last name." He then rose from his seat, knowing that her patience was wearing thin. "It was good to see you, Solange. Give my best to your family."

She looked at him for a few moments, studying him, her eyes lingering on his gaunt face. "Don't expect him to hold out his arms wide for you, Rabastan: he loathes you. What you did…" She threw out her arms, not finding the words to explain it. She didn't know which part she was talking about, the part of him torturing people to insanity or the part where he left them, either one was just as bad in her opinion.

"Maybe," Rabastan answered, shrugging, not admitting either way. "But, at the time, we thought it was necessary." He answered, immediately thinking she was talking about the Longbottoms.

"Willing to please your father and brother, but never your son or your wife." Solange snarled, rolling her eyes in contempt. He gave her one last look, his gaze filled with an unknown emotion, then apparated out, leaving the room and the house. Solange sighed, walking away, knowing that Despereaux wouldn't be happy that Rabastan was out of jail.

Harry laughed at the dinner table of Grimmauld Place, losing himself in the peace that would come very rarely now that Voldemort had returned. Cedric had said a joke, making the group of nine burst out in laughter. It was time of calmness that surprisingly came after the Order meeting: all but Sirius, Remus, Harry, Nymphadora, Kingsley, Bill, Cedric, Hermione, and Emmeline had left. Dobby had made dinner, and they were all enjoying a good meal. Suddenly, Harry felt a swell of heat over take him, forcing him to close his eyes, as if he was about to pass out. He felt a hand roll over his back, presumably Nymphadora's, and went to open his eyes; but when he did, it wasn't his eyes he was looking out of.

_It was like watching a movie: you can watch, listen, but when it comes down to it, you can't control what they do. Harry could see what Voldemort could see, hear what he could hear, and feel what he felt, but he couldn't overtake Voldemort's body. It was like they were one, yet fully separate. Voldemort's gaze rolled over the crowd, all of them being Death Eaters, and one of them was bowing down in front. There were ten of them, without hoods and unmasked, allowing Harry a visual of them all. There was Selwyn, Malfoy, and Rowle, the only three in the room who weren't in Azkaban at one time or another. Then there were the three Lestranges, Crouch, Travers and Quirrell—plus Rookwood, who was in the front, bowing. _

"_The Department of Mysteries, Rookwood," Voldemort said, calmly petting Nagini. "Are you sure I'm the only one, other than Potter, that can get it?" _

"_And the Keeper of the Hall, master." Augustus Rookwood answered; his gray hair was slicked back, and he had an arrogant smirk on his face. Being one of Voldemort's main informants and lieutenants during the last war, he was glad to be out of Azkaban, free again. "Surely, though, at this time of night, no one should be there."_

"_Good," Voldemort nodded in acceptance, a sense of purpose and power and rightness that always accompanied the feeling of triumph. "Go and clear a path, just in case there are people there. I'll arrive later on, then I'll get the prophecy." He ordered, gesturing for the door. The Death Eaters threw over their hoods, put their masks on their faces, and left the room, running past the wards and disapparating. _

"We have to go!" Harry gasped, pulling himself into his own mind again, gaining full control of himself. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve, rising to his feet all the while. "Voldemort is going to the Department of Mysteries, he wants a prophecy about him; and if he gets it, loads of people will die."

"How does he know of the enchantments on the prophecies?" Hermione asked, worriedly. As an Unspeakable, one who came in personal contact with some of those prophecies, she was visibly worried for their safety. If anybody but Voldemort and Harry, and the Keeper of the Hall were to touch the prophecy orb, they would immediately go mad, losing themselves into the far reaches of their very own mind.

"Rookwood." Was Harry's simple answer, and then he turned and ran up the stairs, the rest of the Order, the ones who were there, following right behind. Quickly, he entered the parlor, where Regulus sat, looking bored. "Regulus, I need you to go and get Phineas, order him to tell Dumbledore to head over to the Ministry straight away: Voldemort's going after the prophecy." Regulus nodded, happy to help, and headed straight out of his portrait; appearing in Phineas' portrait, located on the second floor of the house.

They all disapparated from Grimmauld Place, arriving at the entrance of the Ministry seconds later, and immediately rushing down into the depths where the Hall of Prophecy was. They sprinted towards their destination, noticing that Eric Munch, the wizard that sat at the reception desk and weighed people's wands was stunned, surprisingly still alive, however. With Harry leading the way, they all hoped they would be able to stop the Death Eaters and Voldemort from getting the prophecy: an item that would grant him untold knowledge. Very few of them knew just what the prophecy said; Remus and Sirius being the only ones other than Harry, but neither knew the full contents, only part of it.

"You two, Cedric and Hermione, stay here, guard the entrance." Harry ordered, running towards the staircase that would lead down to the Department of Mysteries. "The rest of you come with me." He rushed down the stairs, six members of the Order following behind him, their feet clanking against the stone floor as they ran. They came into the wide, long, and large hallway that led into a circular chamber that, in turn, would lead into the different chambers of the Department. There, entering the circular chamber, were the Death Eaters, Augustus Rookwood seemingly in charge—or, at the very least, leading the way. Hearing the approaching footsteps, the Death Eaters turned, and looked at the Order, throwing their wands up in front of themselves.

The Death Eaters numbered around ten, each with their hoods up and their masks on. Some were bony, some were made of metal, but all of the masks blocked their identities: though, as Harry had seen Voldemort talking to them, he knew who they all were. There was Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Bellatrix Lestrange; Barty Crouch, Jr; Quirinus Quirrell; Lucius Malfoy; Travers; Thorfinn Rowle; Augustus Rookwood; and Selwyn. "You won't take a step further." Harry growled, coming to a stop around ten feet away; he was a foot or two ahead of the other Order members, in the front of the group.

"And who's going to stop us? You, Potter?" Lucius Malfoy's voice came, silkily, as a cloaked Death Eater took a step forward. His wand tip was alit, and the light reflected off of his metal mask.

"What's the point of a mask, Malfoy, if you're just going to give yourself away? I know the Malfoy's aren't known to be smart, but still." Harry mocked, alighting his wand tip, too, for more light.

"So this is baby Pottikins?" A woman cooed, mockingly; Harry knew her to be Bellatrix Lestrange. "Such a big mouth for a disgusting halfblood." On Harry's side, Sirius growled, making Bellatrix transfer her gaze over to him. "Aw, if it isn't the blood traitor, Sirius Black." Then, her eyes rolled over the rest of the Order, her smirk widening as she passed by each and every person. "A few mudbloods I don't know, and a werewolf, how disgusting."

"Mudbloods?" Emmeline Vance replied angrily, acting affronted. Truthfully, she didn't want a battle to erupt, knowing that they were outnumbered and, most likely, out skilled. "I come from a line of wizards that has been around since the creation of Freyjavangr!"

"Then you're a blood traitor, not much better in our book." Bellatrix laughed, as the rest of her group grunted. She loved taunting her prey, loving the added effect that it had on them.

"Yet, I'm not the one killing other purebloods, now am I?" Emmeline sneered, angrily. She held her wand tightly in her hand, ready to defend herself if need be. She knew about Bellatrix's reputation of being belligerent and insane, and willing to do anything for Voldemort, for her master, but she wasn't afraid: nervous, yes, but not afraid.

Bellatrix pretended not to hear her, as her violet eyes zeroed in on Nymphadora—she looked at her as if she hadn't seen her before, yet knew her somehow. "You look like my worthless sister. You're her mutt of a daughter, aren't you?" She scowled, accusingly, her eyes wide with fury and disgust. "You're the halfblood that came from her traitorous marriage to that filthy muggle, Ted Tonks, aren't you? He doesn't deserve to be known as a mudblood, he's too terrible of a wizard to even consider him a mudblood."

Harry, needing to defend his wife, took a step but was stopped by a hand, Tonks', grabbing his arm. "Well, you're a pretty little witch, aren't you, auntie? Though, I do say Azkaban has taken a lot from you, I don't think your sanity is one of them." Then, turning her head to the Death Eater in the middle, she said, "Uncle Lucius."

"You're no niece of mine!" Bellatrix screeched, sending a curse at Nymphadora. Harry, being the closest to the Death Eaters, stepped in front of it, and deflected it away, where it crashed against the stonewall, destroying one of the torches.

"We'll take Potter!" A Death Eater screamed, as the battle erupted in both the hallway and the circular room that led into the different chambers. Two wizards charged at Harry, forcing him to run backwards, away from the others, swishing his wand in defense, blocking the curses that came his way with powerful shield charms.

Sirius immediately went after Bellatrix, knowing that she was one of the most powerful Death Eaters there, and needed to be put down fast. Plus, after what she said to Nymphadora, she deserved to be punished. His attack, which came swift, pushed her into the circular room, where she blew open one of the doors, running into one of the many chambers. Sirius quickly followed her, a wide, arrogant smile lacing his handsome face.

Two of the Death Eaters, Selwyn and Rowle, attacked Kingsley fiercely and quickly, forcing the powerful Auror to fight them both alone in the hallway. He wasn't unhappy, however, for he would rather fight two than have anyone else do it—plus, in comparison to Crouch and Lestrange, Rowle and Selwyn weren't that tough. Being an experienced Auror, he came across Dark Wizards lots of times, and knew their ways, knew how they acted: how they attacked. Using that knowledge, he parried and dodged, shielded and deflected with ease, turning the attacks back onto the attackers.

Unlike Kingsley and Harry who were forced to take on two Death Eaters (though they would have done it by choice, too), Remus Lupin attacked two of them at once: Lucius Malfoy and a tall, thin Death Eater—Travers. His bombardment of curses and jinxes blew the pair back into the circular room, away from the other duels that were going on behind them. His attacks, however, caused no harm, as each Death Eater was able to get a shield up; they were measly, but still, they served their purpose.

While spells were being thrown around, Bill Weasley and Rodolphus Lestrange, hidden behind his cloak and mask, eyed each other, staring one another down. They circled around, creating room for the duel that was about to commence; it would be good, they both knew, as the feeling of anticipation swelled up inside. Then, as if he couldn't wait anymore, Bill threw an orange curse that zigzagged towards Lestrange, like a bright meteor. Lestrange quickly put up a defense, a counter-jinx that blocked the orange bolt, making it fizzle out after a few seconds.

Meanwhile, Rabastan Lestrange tossed a curse at Emmeline Vance, disinterestedly. He was good, real good, but was disappointed that he got the scrub. Sure, the witch had bark, but she had no bite—or so he thought. They were in the circular room, with Remus dueling his two Death Eaters on the other side, but the yells that echoed off of the walls made it seem as if there were a lot more people in the room: they were so loud that it was distracting to all the combatants, Emmeline taking it the worse, however. Then, suddenly, a red light whizzed towards Emmeline, hitting her square in the chest, and she crumpled to the ground, stunned. "Better than I thought," Rabastan mumbled, looking over to Malfoy and Travers. "Rowle and Selwyn will need help." He ran towards a door on the side, entering the room, the Space chamber, where Kingsley was fighting his two Death Eaters.

Which left Nymphadora with Augustus Rookwood. The aged, pockmarked, stooped wizard inched towards her, mocking laughter coming from his gut. Figuring this would be easy, not knowing who Nymphadora was, Rookwood sent a simple hex her way—she flicked her wand, carelessly, tossing it back at him. "So, little girl wants to play, does she?" He said, his accent thick. "Well, lets go!" He sent a killing curse straight at her, making her dive to the side, barely underneath it. She twirled her wand, conjuring her own spell and sending it at the former Unspeakable, starting the fight in full.

"Is that the best you got, cousin? You haven't even touched me yet!" Sirius yelled, his voice full of laughter. The pair had been fighting for a few minutes now, and Bellatrix had yet to land an attack, yet Sirius had hit the witch with two.

"Shut up, traitor." Bellatrix snarled, tossing a purple curse at her cousin. The curse hit the wall behind Sirius, blasting it to pieces, sending rock and dust up into the air.

Kingsley grinned as Travers was hit with a stunner, ending the duel—Selwyn had been knocked unconscious a few minutes earlier. Knowing that others might need help, he headed across the chamber, his feet clicking against the stone floor. As he neared the door, however, a Death Eater, his bone mask reflecting the torchlight, came skidding in, his wand held high in front of him. Without saying a word, and hoping that whomever the Death Eater had been fighting wasn't dead, Kingsley sent a spell towards him, igniting another fight.

Harry ducked under a yellow curse sent by Quirrell, then rolled away from another curse that Crouch had sent. Then came a killing curse, though Harry didn't know who sent it; Harry summoned the chair that was in the corner to block it's path, and once the green curse hit the wood, the chair was aflame instantly. Wanting to end the fight, Harry jerked his wand down towards the floor, releasing a silver light that streaked around the room: a gunshot-like sound emanated, too. Crouch and Quirrell acted quickly, however, and threw up a shield, that crumpled, though allowed them to dodge the spell.

"I see I taught you well when I was your professor, Potter." Quirrell sneered from under his hood and behind his mask. Harry grunted, preparing another attack, and the pair turned and ran into the circular room, wanting to regroup to fight Harry.

"Harry, he's here!" Hermione screamed, running into the chamber. Harry's head spun towards her, seeing the fear in her eyes; Cedric came running in a second later, he too looked alarmed. There was no need to question who she meant by 'he'. Reading the terror on her face, and hearing the horror in her voice, he knew it was none other than the Dark Lord, the most feared wizard of the age, Lord Voldemort.


	24. Danger coming Danger here

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Happy Holidays everybody.

S/N 2: About Harry having trouble with Barty and Quirrell: those two wizards are the best Death Eaters Voldemort has, the most skilled and the most powerful. They would and could give anybody in the Order a fight. You also have to remember that Harry is still young, and though he knows a lot of magic and a ton of spells, he isn't that experienced when it comes to dueling just yet; he'll learn, and when he does he'll become better, but for now, he's still young.

Chapter 24: Danger coming; Danger here

"Stay here." Harry growled, running up the stairs, out of the chamber and up the stairwell, where he stopped in a foyer-like room, immediately before the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. Harry knew, without a doubt, that Voldemort would want the prophecy, and in order to get it, he'd have to walk right where Harry was standing. He'd have to walk through Harry or over the young wizard's corpse if he wanted the prophecy, and Harry was prepared for that.

The room was circular, made of stone, and had a reception desk off to the side. It was the perfect spot, he figured, away from the other Order Members, away from their eyes so he could use the magic Dumbledore had taught him, a magic that would equal Voldemort's. He tried to before, in the hall of the Department of Mysteries while he was fighting Crouch and Quirrell, but they, along with his attention being drawn to the other Order members, were more skilled than he originally thought, and he had only had a chance to use his stronger magic once; but it worked, since they immediately retreated, not wanting to duel him anymore. Like cowards, they left before he could round them all up, and bring them back to Azkaban where they belonged. He heard footsteps coming from the Atrium a few seconds later; nearer and closer they came, before they were right in front of him before they stopped, the sound disappearing.

There, standing not thirty feet away, shrouded in darkness, was Lord Voldemort; he tilted his head towards Harry, tightening his grip on his wand. He was garbed in long, black robes, which seemed to be made of a silk-like texture. He was tall, skeletally thin, and chalk white: his eyes, even under his shadowy hood, glowed red, as if they were literally burning with rage—though he showed no signs of being abnormally angry. His hands, with one of them being wrapped around his yew wand, were topped off with the fingers that were as spider legs. He moved not, standing abnormally still, as if he was made of stone.

The Dark Lord looked at Harry, as if he was studying him like a butcher would a piece of meat. "Harry Potter, so we meet." Lord Voldemort said—his voice was high and cruel. "You look so much like your father, it's hard not to see his dead, lifeless face as your own."

Harry growled under his breath, but did not react, not wanting Voldemort to have that satisfaction. "Lord Voldemort." He nodded, taking a step closer to the Dark Lord. "If I'm not much mistaken, I'm pretty sure we've already met—you know, when your body was destroyed when I just was a baby."

"You don't believe you were the one to defeat me, do you? Surely you can't be that dumb, could you? And here I heard you were in Ravenclaw while at Hogwarts." Voldemort mocked, a vicious smile on his pale face. "Move away, let me pass, and we shall not fight. In fact, I offer my hand out to you, Harry Potter. I offer a place by my side, together we shall rule."

"Join you, the person who killed my parents?" Harry questioned, rhetorically, standing his ground. He stared at the Dark Lord harshly, a look of contempt on his face, showcasing his dislike of the man. "Do you really expect me to say yes?"

"You're a fool then." Voldemort sneered, moving his wand in front of him—Harry did the same. "I grow tired of this. Goodbye, Harry Potter." Voldemort cackled, sending the killing curse Harry's way.

Harry ducked the green sphere, and it crashed into the wooden desk off to the side, engulfing it in flames. Harry flicked his wand casually at the table, forming the flames into a fireball, which then streaked towards the Dark Lord. Voldemort spun around, jabbing his wand out, transforming the ball of fire into a slithering mass of snakes. Hissing his orders, he commanded the snakes to attack Harry. Harry on the other hand hissed back, forcing the snakes to turn their back on Voldemort, readying themselves to strike the Dark Lord. Voldemort stared at Harry intensely, impressed by his parselmouth ability. _"I see I was correct in choosing to attack you that night, Harry Potter. Maybe fate was right in choosing you to be my enemy, too."_ Voldemort hissed in parseltongue.

"_I kind of wish you didn't choose me."_ Harry hissed back, dodging a curse that Voldemort sent. They volleyed, parried, ducked, and swerved quickly, throwing and defending curses with all of their magic and skills. The floor shook and windows shattered as their battle intensified, the stone around them crumbling and cracking.

Then, while distractedly dodging another curse, Harry slipped as Voldemort said Avada Kedavra: his life flashed in front of his eyes as he saw the killing curse heading straight at him. It was close; he could feel it rushing upon him, too close, much too close. As his body arched backwards, towards the floor, he lifted his wand up, and said the only spell his mind could come up with. "Avis." He yelled out, hoping against hope that something would happen to keep him from death, keep him alive. He couldn't die now; he had so much to accomplish—if he died, then Voldemort won, and that was something that could not ever happen.

Voldemort's eyes went wide as Harry screamed out the Avis spell, one that would conjure a flock of birds; a meager and useless spell that Lord Voldemort had no use of before then. The birds rushed from the tip of his wand, right into the way of the killing curse; it's green light engulfing the whole flock, before fizzling out—the birds being dead, gone. Potter had done it, Potter had figured out a way to stop the killing curse. It was at the expense of a few birds, of course, but in Voldemort's mind that didn't matter. Harry, seeing his chance, jabbed his wand out, and a great force of wind rushed around the room, as if a great beast had blown out the entirety of its lungs.

Voldemort vanished out of the way of the curse, apparating out with a swirl of his cloak. He reappeared behind Harry, and sent a stream of sickly yellow at the younger wizard; who, in response, twirled his wand, summoning a shield: it was circular, large, and made out of bronze. The curse banged off of the metal shield with a deafening clang, and from behind it, Harry sent a curse of his own. Voldemort swished it away, casually. "I am not impressed." He said, mockingly.

With renewed vigor, Harry threw curse after curse at Voldemort, throwing a Cruciatus curse in there, as well. Voldemort, of course, blocked and defended, almost making it look easy: though, and he loathed to admit it, some of the curses were difficult, even for him, to defend against. Then, with one quick slash of his wand, Voldemort took the offensive, forcing Harry to hide behind his conjured shield. Stroke after stroke of what seemed to be a gigantic serpent made completely of flame crashed against the shield, bringing it to temperatures that would normally melt such metals. Voldemort's attacks pushed Harry back, back to the point where he was on the heels of his feet just trying to stay up.

Seeing an opening from behind his shield, Harry twisted his wand in a cyclone-like way, releasing a flare of energy that cracked the floor under Voldemort's feet. The Dark Lord looked down, his eyes leaving Harry for just a second, but that was all Harry needed; with a great flick of his wand, Harry sent a dark green curse whizzing at the Dark Lord, which crashed into the wizard's arm, and there was a burning smell wafting throughout the room. With a great roar and an injured arm, Voldemort went on the offensive again, showing no mercy in his attacks against Harry, sending killing curses each everyway.

The battle spilt into the adjoining atrium: the Ministry's fountains were just a few feet to the left. Voldemort jetted his wand out in front of him, releasing a curse that blew Harry through the air, where he landed on the stone floor with a thud—his ebony wand rolling away into the darkness. As Voldemort inched towards Harry with a victorious and malicious smirk of contempt on his face, Dumbledore apparated into the atrium behind the Dark Lord, raising his wand instantly. "You shouldn't have come here tonight, Tom." He said, as his voice echoed off the walls.

Voldemort whirled around quickly, pushing his wand down to the floor, releasing a curse that whooshed across the room. Dumbledore, expecting Voldemort's actions, disapparated away, only to reappear next to Harry on the other side of the room. He flipped his wand, sending a rope, which was seemingly made completely of fire, at Voldemort; who, in response, summoned a silver shield, only dislike Harry's by its shape and the green serpent-like Slytherin S that was on its front. The whip-like rope crashed against the shield, burning out a second or two later. Both wizards stared at each other, studying one another; Voldemort banishing the shield he had created with a simple flick of his wand. Meanwhile, Harry was gazing around the room, searching for his lost wand; though he dared not leave Dumbledore's protection, knowing that Voldemort would take him out the second he did.

They seemed to act at the same time, for Dumbledore whipped his wand, summoning the water from the fountain and encasing Voldemort in a pillar of water, like a cocoon of molten glass. Before being trapped, however, the Dark Lord had managed to send a killing curse at Dumbledore, forcing the aged wizard to duck out of the way, making him lose his concentration. Using his chance wisely, Voldemort flicked his wand, releasing the pillar of water; it crashed down to the floor, spewing out across the wood. Yet, even still, having had to hold his breath for an amount of time seemed to disorient Voldemort a little, as he didn't go for the attack the second he was free.

Bellatrix Lestrange ran into the room, her violet eyes wide with either madness or surprise. Seeing Dumbledore, she raised her wand and released a great blast against the statue of the centaur that was perched in the fountain next to the aged wizard. The force, which was as close to her as it was Dumbledore, blew apart the centaur, and threw both Dumbledore and Bellatrix across the room, where they landed with a thud, both unconscious: his wand, like Harry's before, rolled out of his wrinkled hands. Harry's eyes went wide with shock, having not seen Bellatrix enter the room, and he was even more surprised with Dumbledore being so off guard.

Then, acting quickly, he dove towards Dumbledore's wand that laid on the ground, grabbed it, and rolled in front of the downed wizard. A green light was zooming at him, and, without thinking, he threw the killing curse himself. The two green bolts met in midair, and instead of bouncing off of each other like they normally would, they stuck to each other, turned gold, and connected the two wands. Dumbledore's wand, in Harry's hands, began to vibrate, as if an electric charge was surging through it. The thin gold strain splintered out, creating a golden circular dome, as Harry and Voldemort both levitated a few feet above the floor, each holding onto their wands with deathly grips. The cage-like dome above them looked like a spider web, with arching gold beams of light.

Knowing that he had to buy some time for Dumbledore to regain his wits, Harry held onto his wand tighter, not breaking the connection. The beam of light connecting the wands changed, and now it was as though a thread of large beads that slid up and down the connection. Harry's wand shuddered angrily in his hands and the beads began to slide his way, from Voldemort. Concentrating harder, Harry sent the threads Voldemort's way, where they inched slowly but steadily towards the Dark Lord. Voldemort fought but Harry would not budge, and the threads continued on their path, until, with a great lurch, they merged with Voldemort's wand tip.

At once, Voldemort's wand emitted a smoky outline of a shield, and the Dark Lord's eyes went wide with shock. Then, screams of pain echoed around the hall, before, with a great push, a head sprung out of the wand, followed closely by a torso and legs: made from the densest gray smoke Harry had ever seen was an echo or ghost of Eric Munch. "Get him, Potter." Munch growled in an echoic and distant voice, walking around the golden dome, muttering things to Voldemort Harry couldn't hear. Screams continued to emit from Voldemort's wand, clearly from Cruciatus curses that were cast upon Death Eaters and innocents. Then, coming over to Harry, Munch said, "Your parents are coming out, they'll be here soon."

But already, yet another head was blossoming, and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman's. The shadow of the young woman with long hair fell to the ground, straightened up, and looked at Harry. And Harry, his arms shaking madly now due to the connection of the wands, looked back into the ghostly face of his mother: Lily Potter. "Your father's coming," She said, quietly. "Hold on for your father…it'll be alright, we're so proud of you."

And he came, first his head, then his body. Tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter, emerged from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened just like Lily had seconds before. He walked close to Harry, his gaze leaving the boy for just a moment. "Dumbledore's back awake," He said, lowly. And, sure enough, the great wizard Albus Dumbledore was rising to his feet, looking at the golden dome with wide, curious eyes. "When the connection breaks, we will linger for only moments, but we will give you time. We will block Voldemort's view, and use that momentary distraction to kill him, do you understand, Harry? He's hurt too many people, stop him from hurting anybody else."

More and more shadows were popping out of Voldemort's wand: Caradoc Dearborn; Edgar Bones, followed by his wife; Dorcas Meadowes; Marlene McKinnon; Benjy Fenwick (father of Court Scribe Devan Fenwick), and a slew of other past Order members. "Yes," Harry grunted, the wand burning so hot he thought it would burst into flames. "I am your son, after all." He laughed, struggling to hold onto the connection.

James' steely, concentrated gaze dropped, and in its place was pride. "Yes," He said, looking over to Lily with a smile. "You are. Know that we, that I, love you, Harry." Then, gathering the other echoes or shadows, he said, "Break it now!" The shadows rushed towards Voldemort, as Harry lurched his wand upwards, the golden cage breaking instantly. The area in front of Voldemort was a grayish haze as the echoes began to fade away, but not before Harry released a sphere of green energy: the killing curse.

"Master!" A voice cried out of nowhere. There was the unmistakable sound of footsteps, then a crash, the green light having been lost in the fray of gray haze. Once the cloud faded, the shadows having disappeared, Harry saw what it was that made the sound: Voldemort had been tackled out of the path of the killing curse by his Death Eater, Barty Crouch. They were both sprawled out on the ground, a few feet away from each other—slowly they got to their knees, Voldemort was staggering slightly.

Before either Harry or Dumbledore, who had pulled a new wand out from under his robes, could react, the other Death Eaters rushed into the room. One of them, presumably Rodolphus, grabbed Bellatrix, and disapparated out: the others following him a second later. Voldemort and Barty Crouch gave one last look at Harry and Dumbledore, before they too apparated out, leaving the Ministry. "Harry!" Tonks called out, running into the room with the rest of the group.

"Are you alright?" Harry questioned, wrapping his arms around Tonks, glad that she was okay. Last he saw of her, she was fighting Augustus Rookwood, a more than accomplished wizard who would be more than willing to kill for Voldemort.

She nodded, embracing him. "There were only a few of us left, most were stunned, when Quirrell and Crouch renerverated the Death Eaters and called for a retreat. They blocked the way back up with a few curses so we couldn't chase them, but Sirius and Kingsley managed to knock the blocks down after a few tries." Harry's eyes flicked over to the Order: they looked alright, a few cuts and bruises here and there but no lasting damage.

"What is going on here?" Rufus Scrimgeour growled from the entrance: a few Aurors and Hitwizards were behind him, their wands raised. Some of them ran off, past Harry and the Order, making sure all of the Death Eaters were gone or contained.

"They're gone." Pius Thicknesse, Head of the Hitwizard Squads, said, looking somewhat fearful. "The Death Eaters, Rufus, I saw them with my own eyes."

"I saw them, too." Gawain Robards, father of Gaetana and Head of the Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Squads, nodded in agreement. "Crunch is dead…his body is behind the front desk."

"Get Amelia here, Pius, right away!" Rufus screamed, making Pius Thicknesse leave in a hustle, the other Aurors and Hitwizards clearing a path for him. Rufus limped over to Dumbledore, his face unreadable. "You dueled him, Dumbledore, did you?"

"Harry and I did, yes." Dumbledore nodded, trying to catch his breath. His body wasn't what it used to be and the duel, which was as intense as one could ever be, took a lot out of him. "He's even more powerful than he was during the last war." Dumbledore whispered into Rufus' ear as he walked past the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Tell Amelia I'll wait in her office."

An hour later, Harry and Dumbledore sat at the Headmaster's desk, going over what transpired that night: how Harry knew Voldemort was there, their duel with Voldemort, and the Priori Incantatem. "What exactly happened? Did you drop your Occlumency shields, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned, wondering just what it was that had happened earlier that allowed Harry to see into Voldemort's mind.

"For a second, maybe." Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It was as if, as if I was him, though I was myself at the same time."

"Hm," Dumbledore muttered, taking out a silver object that came into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. He tinkered with the instrument for a few moments, before a puff of smoke, shaped like a serpent, sprang out of it; then, as if cut by a knife, it spread apart, creating two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. "So in essence divided? Naturally, naturally." He whispered, nodding his head, seemingly having a conversation with himself. He looked back to Harry, a knowing gleam in his eyes. Then, without saying a word, he shrugged, and Harry knew the discussion was over for the time being.

Knowing full well that they couldn't keep it under wraps, the Ministry released the knowledge of Voldemort's return the next day. With big, bold headlines saying **'He Who Must Not Be Named Back!'** the story threw the British wizarding world into a foray. Unfortunately, however, telling the public that Voldemort had come back didn't make them any safer. In fact, now that people knew, Voldemort would be out in the open, assaulting innocent people, building his dark empire from fear. He would attack random places around the wizarding and muggle communities, forcing the good and honorable witches and wizards to counter him, pushing their numbers to the brink and thinning them out.

"Barty," Voldemort said, his voice somewhat…nice. He sat in his throne within the manor that served as his headquarters, the room around him being made of a gray stone. "You are my most trusted, my most loyal, my strongest. You are privy to much more information than any other, you know this, right?"

"Yes, my lord." Barty smirked, bowing his head ever so slightly. He was proud, finally earning the respect and attention that a man of his caliber, of his pedigree deserved. He finally was seen for what he was, a powerful and great wizard, a fact that his tyrant of a father had never seen or noticed.

"Good, because what I'm about to say does not leave this room, understand?" Voldemort hissed, his crimson eyes burning. Seeing the man's nod, he continued. "Potter has magical potential, magical energy, equal to mine. What he severely lacks, however, is the knowledge to use that power. If he continues to live, I fear he will somehow gain the knowledge that he'll need to stand up against me. On the next raid, if he appears, send every Death Eater after him, got it? He cannot live any longer."

One such attack came a week later when he raided the Montrose Magpie stadium in Scotland during a game against the Pride of Portree. The Order of the Phoenix arrived to fight them, with a total of twenty members: the Death Eaters only had around twenty themselves. Immediately, curses and spells were flying through the air, as pairs went off, away from the group to have individual duels. Some ran away, creating distance between the two factions that were fighting, while some encircled each other, guarding one another's backs. Sirius Black was one of the ones who ran off, sending a curse at a Death Eater who was sprinting towards a small forest that was on the other side of the stadium.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't a lost dog." A screechy voice said from the shadows, making Sirius stop on a dime, allowing the Death Eater he was chasing to get away. The voice sent a shiver down his spine, and instinctively brought a sneer to his face.

Sirius alit his wand tip, holding it out to see whom it was, though he thought he recognized the voice. With a great rush of hatred rising in his belly, Sirius Black laid eyes on the balding Peter Pettigrew: the man that took away his best friend and twenty years of his life. He hadn't seen Pettigrew, except for the picture of the wizard in the Daily Prophet, in over twenty years. "Pettigrew." He spat, loathingly.

"Sirius, Sirius, Sirius." Pettigrew whistled, pointing his wand at Sirius' chest. Somehow, someway, Peter's courage was welling up inside, like a great beast standing on his hind legs. He was ready for a fight, for a fight that should have came a long time ago, finally wanting to show the world what he was capable of. Gone were the days where he'd hide in the shadows, using his unnoticeable wit to get what he wanted, now he wanted to come into the light and show how proficient he was in magic.

"You think you can beat me, Pettigrew?" Sirius scowled, circling around his former friend. Sirius internally laughed, finding Pettigrew's confidence a funny joke, a jest on the rat's part.

The pudgy, balding wizard kept his eye on Sirius, more confident than he had ever been before. "I've already outsmarted you once, Sirius, what makes you think I can't do it again?" Pettigrew mocked, chuckling slightly. "That's always been your downfall, my friend: you're too prideful, too arrogant. I, on the other hand, allowed people to treat me like dirt and ridicule me, just so they would overlook my true potential, my true smarts. When we were teenagers in Hogwarts, you never even knew that I was snooping around, learning everything I could from you and James, did you?"

"Too prideful," Sirius rebuffed laughingly, hatred rising inside. "Just like your master." He had never felt this way before, so disdainful of somebody, not even when it came to his mother nor even Voldemort, the most evil and powerful Dark Lord of the age.

"My master has a reason to be prideful, Black. He's the greatest wizard in the world…perhaps even the best that's ever lived!" Pettigrew returned, a maniacal gleam in his eyes.

"Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter are the greatest wizards alive." Sirius yelled, angrily, his wand hand tightening around the wood.

"Dumbledore's an aged fool, and Potter was lucky as a baby: he won't be alive for very much longer." Pettigrew sneered back, sending a killing curse at Sirius, igniting the duel.

"Brave enough to try and kill me, are you, Peter?" Sirius mocked, ducking the curse, allowing it to fly harmlessly over his head. "You know, it's sad that you made a better rat than you did man."

"How did you enjoy your time in Azkaban, Padfoot? Did you like it?" Pettigrew cackled, madly. Again, he sent a killing curse, trying to end the duel quickly, even before it started. This time, the curse hit a tree, engulfing it in flames. With a great roar, the tree burned through, accelerated by the magic of the killing curse, and started to crash down to the ground, in between Peter and Sirius. Peter waved through the brush, disapparating a second later, leaving Sirius alone. Scowling at the rat's seeming cowardice, Sirius turned and ran back towards the battle, knowing his help would be needed.

Cedric sent a stunner at the Death Eater he was dueling—Rodolphus Lestrange. Expertly, Rodolphus blocked it, sending an a lot more vicious curse Cedric's way. Cedric dove to the side, watching as the curse flew over his head, hitting the ground harmlessly. Then, throwing his wand out in front of him, Cedric released a rope from his wand tip—it sailed towards Rodolphus, coming almost too quick for the man to react. He, however, moved enough for the rope to miss, and it fell to the ground, useless.

Coming out of the darkness off to the side, Bellatrix Lestrange slashed her wand through the air, aiming at Cedric's outstretched hand. Like an invisible sword, the curse known as Sectumsempra, a spell created by Severus Snape during his days at Hogwarts, gashed into flesh. It happened swiftly, almost quick enough for someone to blink and miss it. Bellatrix cackled madly and Rodolphus gathered his wits as they moved in to for the kill, desiring Cedric's corpse.

Cedric's hand and the beginning of his arm, right under his elbow, had been cut off, blood was pouring out of the wound. It was a second before he noticed, but when he did, when he finally felt it, Cedric let out a primal scream of fury, falling to his knees. Remus and Hestia, running up behind him, threw curses at Bellatrix and Rodolphus, preventing them from attacking the downed Cedric: before long, the pair was deeply engaged in a duel against their opponents, leaving Cedric alone and friendless.

"Ah," Cedric screamed out, grabbing the stump of his left hand, hoping to stop the bleeding. His severed hand laid a few feet away, looking pale and dead, quickly becoming lifeless. His breathing was haggard, his face sweaty, and his body was in pain: excruciating, undeniable pain. Slowly, he looked up, across the land, hoping against hope that there was someone, something that could help him. Then, as if sent by fate, he saw Harry, his best friend, his clever and smart friend, running his way—though he didn't seem to see Cedric. "HARRY!"

Harry, over the commotion, heard Cedric's plea, and scanned the lawn, looking for him. Seeing him, he immediately sprinted over, his mouth open and his eyes wide with shock. "What the…?" Harry murmured, sliding to a halt next to Cedric. He tenderly grabbed Cedric's stump, looking at it with his intense, concentrated gaze. "Who did this?" He growled angrily, wanting revenge, wanting to punish the person who dared harm his friend.

"Bellatrix Lestrange." Cedric answered, huffing. "I was dueling Rodolphus, and she came out of nowhere, sending a curse at my wand hand—seems like it missed, don't you think?" He laughed out, though it was more of a cough. "Then Remus attacked her, and now Rodolphus is fighting Hestia Jones."

Harry nodded with his teeth clenched, knowing that Bellatrix would pay. "Look, I'll study it more later, but this should do for the time being." He said as he stood up, and twirled his wand, making a molten silver ball appeared. The silver flew around, then formed into a hand that reflected the moonlight above, and it zoomed towards Cedric, fastening itself onto Cedric's left arm. Almost immediately, Cedric seemed to get better as his color came back. "Go back to the Headquarters, stay there, I'll be there once this is finished."

"But…" Cedric motioned to argue.

"No buts, Cedric." Harry yelled, staring pointedly at the man. "Go, now!" Cedric nodded, and disapparated, leaving the battlefield. Harry got back to his feet, and turned around, finding out for the first time that he was cornered: three Death Eaters were advancing on him, masks on and hoods up.

Neville, meanwhile, ducked under a curse sent by an unknown Death Eater. The Death Eater seemed to not be paying attention, as his head was darting around, searching for something that wasn't there. Using his advantage, Neville sent a stunner towards the wizard, where it hit him square in the chest; his body fell to the ground, unconscious. Neville grinned, proud of himself for beating a Death Eater, no matter the man's rank. With a new bubble of confidence, Neville's eyes swept around the area, looking for something to do and someone to duel.

Suddenly, Neville twisted around, and his eyes immediately went wide: there, not five feet away, was the green bolt of death, the curse known as Avada Kedavra. As his life flashed before him, a boulder flew up into the air, blocking the path of the curse; it exploded against the hard rock. Neville cocked an eyebrow, confusedly, and then gazed around the battlefield. The one who sent the curse was Gibbon, who had his back turned and was already engaged with another member of the Order. The one who levitated the boulder, however, was nowhere to be seen. Then, next to the tree not thirty feet away, there was a flail of a cloak, and Neville caught a quick glimpse of his savior: with brown hair, brown eyes, and a lean frame, the man who saved him was none other than Rabastan Lestrange. Noticing Neville looking at him, he disapparated, leaving the young Longbottom thoroughly confused.

Shaking his head, Neville ran across the field, seeing five Death Eaters gaining up on one Order member. One by one the Death Eaters charged, and one by one they went down; though, their friends would rennervate them awake straight away. Neville neared the fight, and finally saw just who it was: Harry Potter. Unsurprisingly, the Death Eaters had a hard time with the man, and never got another chance as Neville, along with Bill and Charlie Weasley took three of the Death Eater's off of Harry's hands.

Off in the distance, Tonks dueled Antonin Dolohov. Truthfully, he was a better wizard than she was witch, and as such, she was one the defensive the whole time. Curse after curse came from the aged, pale wizard. She ducked, dodged, and defended, forever on the defense, though she was good at it. Then, suddenly, Dolohov released a curse, purple and hot, that zigzagged towards her, quicker than she expected. It connected with her abdomen with such great force that she was pushed back, falling down to the ground. She rolled around for a second, before going limp, unconscious and on the verge of death.

Harry, now just dueling one Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange, ducked under a killing curse, whipping his wand her way. He released a curse, one of a molten-orange color; it jetted out of his wand and rushed at the witch with great celerity. It zoomed at her, expanding to where it seemed like a throw pillow before hitting her in the face; her pale, aristocratic face. She was sent flying across the ground, her wand being thrown out of her grasp, skidding to a halt twenty feet away. She let out a scream, a painful, terrible scream, trying to rise to her feet: she fell back down on her back, unable to move, unable to think, barely able to breath. Just as her husband, Rodolphus, reached her to retreat, she fell into the darkness, though she wasn't asleep. Harry watched as they left, then strolled over to where her wand laid on the ground, and, with one quick stomp of his foot, brook the piece of wood in two, destroying it in anger over Cedric.

The rest of the Death Eaters retreated as well, leaving those in their numbers that had been stunned in the custody of the Order. Showing their complete lack of concern, they even left some who were hurt, unable to leave, on the ground, leaving them to their fate at the hands of the Ministry. Even still, while Death Eaters were down, it was only a few, no more than five, and they were weaker and new ones, rather than the more powerful members of the inner circle. Undoubtedly, their loss to Voldemort's forces would not be a huge blow, or any big set back.

"Harry!" A voice cut across the darkened night sky, calling the wizard's attention. There, hovering above a body was Viktor, prodding the downed witch with his wand. "It's Tonks!" Immediately, not even thinking, he ran, ran faster than he had run before, across the lawn to his wife, his love. Hermione took out the hair clip that was in her hair, turned it into a portkey, and disappeared with Tonks, telling Viktor where they were going.

Harry, seeing that, disapparated, knowing that St. Mungo's was his next stop. Arriving, he ran through the halls, Medi-wizards and witches jumping out of his way, heading towards the Auror ward, where he knew Tonks would be. He skidded around the corner, and immediately came in view of Hermione, who was standing next to a door, apparently kicked out of the room. "What's going on, how is she? What's wrong with her? Is she okay?" Harry questioned in a huff, staring at Hermione with his worried green eyes.

"She's being treated now, Harry." Hermione said, patting his back. "She'll be fine, you'll see." She grabbed his arm, and steered him over to the chairs, sitting him down. "Apparently, the curse Dolohov sent her way was one of his own making: I saw it, it was purple and lightning-like, something I didn't recognize. Well, when it hits someone, it messes them up internally, not externally."

Harry slumped further into his chair, his eyes staring blankly at the door Nymphadora was behind. His green eyes were locked in their steely gaze, the one in which he always got when he was solving something difficult or had important things otherwise on his mind. He knew she would be fine, something inside of him, he didn't know what, assured him of that; it whispered in his mind, perpetually assuring him that she would be okay, that he would see her soon. He sighed as Andromeda and Ted came rushing around the corner, towards him, their faces laced with worry, with fright. After explaining the situation, they all sat, Hermione moving to make room for them, and waited: impatiently and worriedly.

A day passed, and as the clock chimed ten in the morning, Nymphadora awoke from her slumber. She slowly, groggily, lifted her small head from her pillow, yawning slightly, and smiled at the sight of her mother, Andromeda. "Hi, mom." She said, lowly, stretching a little; her back gave out a low crack.

"Hello, hunny." Andromeda replied, putting the magazine she was reading down on the table next to her, and giving her daughter a bright, but tired smile.

"Where's Harry?" Tonks questioned, her eyes darting around the room, looking for her husband. She was surprised he wasn't there, next to her, waiting for her to wake up.

"He went home to take a shower. He was here the whole time you were unconscious." Andromeda answered, getting up from the chair next to the bed, and standing next to her daughter.

"Will he be back soon?" Tonks asked, wanting nothing more than to see Harry, knowing that he must have been worrying about her.

"I don't know," Her mother answered, honestly. "Your father and him just left a little over a half an hour ago."

"Oh, okay." Tonks sighed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her eyes were closed, so she didn't see the frown that had taking form on her mother's face.

"Sweetheart…" Andromeda said sadly, staring down at her daughter. Tonks stopped rubbing her eyes, and looked up at the women, wondering what was up. "There's something…something happened during the attack." She moved her hand up the bed, placing it softly down on Nymphadora's abdomen. "I'm so sorry, darling."

"What?" Nymphadora asked, confusedly. Then, as if lightning had struck her, she gasped, grabbing the hand on her stomach, and putting her hand on top of her mother's. "No, no, no…it can't be!" She yelled, tears accumulating in her eyes. Her mother looked at her with her sad eyes, and gave a small nod of her head, knowing that was all that needed to be said in order to get her point across. "NO!" Tonks cried, breaking down. "No, please, no. Not that, anything but that."

Andromeda wrapped her daughter up in her arms, holding her close and tight, allowing the metamorphmagus to cry into her shoulder. It was terrible to lose a child, especially when that child was all but murdered right in front of your eyes. Seeing her daughter in such a state, Andromeda let a trickle of tears run down her rosy cheeks, wishing to ease her daughter's pain in anyway she could. They sat there, in each other's arms, for fifteen minutes, before the door swung open, and Harry walked in looking pale and tired with bags under his eyes. Ted came in after him, giving Andromeda and his daughter a small, sad smile.

Andromeda slid off the bed, and out the door, followed closely by Ted, leaving the pair alone. Harry kissed Tonks' forehead, then turned, and stared out of the window that was next to the bed. For a few moments, Tonks did nothing but watch Harry—he sighed every so often, but continued to look out the window, as if there was an answer to a great question out there. Not being able to bear it anymore, she wept silently, losing herself in the emotions that were inside of her. "Do you…do you still love me?" Tonks whispered, staring at the floor with teary eyes.

Harry whirled around, staring at her with shock. "Nymphie, why would you ask such a question?" He darted over to her, taking her hand in his, and wiping away the tears that were falling from Nymphadora's eyes. "My love for you in unconditional, sweetie. Baby, I love you more than anything in this world, and I'll never stop loving you until the world ends. Even when I'm dead and gone from this world, and my bones have turned to dust, my heart will still yearn for you. Don't ever, ever ask me that question again, do you understand me?" Harry ordered, a harsh yet caring tone to his voice.

"I lost our baby!" She cried out, tears flowing freely from her face. "How could you ever live with me, knowing that my ineptitude killed our child? I was the one who said the baby would be safe, that I could take care of myself and that I could fight against Voldemort. You wanted me to stay in, to be safe, to be protected, but I was the one who rebuffed that."

"Oh, hunny," Harry cooed, pulling her body close to his. He stuffed his head into the nook of her neck, kissing it softly, tenderly, lovingly. "You did nothing wrong. You did what you thought was right, and you can't blame yourself for that. And don't you even think about saying that if you had listened to me, our child would still be here, because I was wrong. You can't live in fear, Nymphadora. I wouldn't want our child to grow up in a world where people ran away from fighting for what they think is right. And that's something you didn't do, and for that I'm so proud of you. Accidents happen, and I know it hurts, I'm in pain over our loss too, but it was an accident. No one blames you, not me, not your mother, no one; and you especially should not blame yourself. If you want to blame someone, then blame Voldemort, blame Dolohov, but don't you dare put blame on yourself. You hear me?" She threw her arms around him, holding him tight, and crying out her eyes. He kissed the top of her head, holding her for however long she wanted him to.

"Now that Severus is here, I think we can start the meeting." Dumbledore said, tiredly, taking a seat at the head of the long, wooden dinner table. Sirius was to his left, but the seat to his right, which was usually occupied by Harry, was empty.

"What about Potter?" A raspy voice from halfway down the table said, noticing the second in command, by reputation rather than actual title, was missing. Those close to Harry looked down, an aura of sadness overtaken them, strangling them with despair and depression.

"We've given Harry a few days off, he needs it. We told him not to come." Sirius answered, looking down at the wizard who voiced the question: Broderick Bode, an Unspeakable, one of the spies within the Ministry.

"Tonks had a miscarriage." Cedric said, sadly. He made a fist with his newly acquired hand, given to him by Harry, angered by what had happen to his best friend. "Dolohov's spell messed up her insides, and…and the baby didn't make it." There was a collective gasp from the group, and they all turned and whispered words of condolences.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, gloomily. "An unfortunate circumstance, indeed. I just hope that some of you, and I know you all are, will be willing to take over for some of Harry's responsibilities, allowing the man to mourn and take the time that he needs." The Order members all nodded, knowing that Harry gave so much to the cause the least they could do was help him out, doing whatever it was that he needed.

Tonks gripped Harry's hand tightly, as the wizard apparated them out of St. Mungo's and into their home. The witch was pale and tired, but she couldn't take being in the hospital any longer, so Harry had made plans for a Healer to come and visit her for a week or so at their house. She was fine, he knew, but one couldn't be too cautious, so he delegated Tonks to bed rest until she was a hundred percent, not wanting to take any risks.

"I'm so glad you're home, hunny." Andromeda smiled as Tonks appeared in the living room; Harry's arm draped around her. Tonks gave her mother a small, tired smile, her eyes barely open. Harry threw the bag in his hands down on the floor, and hoisted her into his strong arms, carrying her up to their room; Andromeda followed closely behind them. Entering the room, Harry placed her gently down onto their king-sized bed, and kissed her forehead, tenderly. After exchanging a few words, Andromeda and Harry left the room, leaving Nymphadora to her sleep, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

Late at night the next day, Harry and Dumbledore walked up the stone steps to the Headmaster's office, talking about nothing in particular, knowing the walls had ears: you never could be too careful. Entering the room, Dumbledore closed the door behind them. "I heard you beat Bellatrix Lestrange in a duel, is that right?" Dumbledore asked, his voice low. He walked around his desk, slowly, and then took a seat at his big backed leather chair; Fawkes flew down from his perch and rested on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I did." Harry nodded, taking pride in the fact that, though she wasn't caught, he beat a witch as powerful as Bellatrix. Even so, even with that pride, his mind drifted over to Nymphadora, wanting nothing more than to be with her, to hold her, to make sure she was okay, both physically and mentally.

"Good, good." Dumbledore smiled: it was big, and almost unnatural when put in context about what they were talking about. Oddly, there seemed to be a gleam of triumph in his sparkling blue eyes—it gave Harry an eerie sensation. Then, reaching into his robes, he took out a dark, black piece of wood: a wand. He placed it down on his desk in front of him, gesturing to Harry. Harry studied it, immediately recognizing it for the wand that Dumbledore had used after Harry had borrowed his in the Ministry's atrium. "Remember this wand, Harry." Dumbledore whispered, scooping the wand up and putting it back into his robes. The aged wizard raised a hand, stifling Harry's question. "We will discuss that matter in the coming week, but now," He said, gesturing to the tea tray that appeared on his desk. "Let us relax."

An hour later found Harry sitting alone in his den, very few lights were on. "Hey," Cedric said, coming into the room, a small, sorrowful smile on his face. Harry gave him a slight, tired nod, and Cedric took a seat across from the man, pouring himself a drink. They sat in silence, sloshing their drinks, each not knowing what to say or how to say it. "How are you?" Cedric asked, finally, wanting to know how his dear friend, his best friend was.

"All right, I guess." Harry shrugged, not hiding anything. His eyes moved down to Cedric's hand, silver and glossy, shining in the light of the room. "Let me take a look at that." He said, putting his drink down and reaching out to the silver hand.

Cedric instinctively moved his hand back, hiding it from view. "I didn't come here for that, Harry." He said, frowning. "I came to make sure you were okay."

"Give me your hand, Cedric," Harry replied, tiredly. "I promised to take a better look at it after you left." Hesitantly, Cedric moved his hand from behind his back, allowing Harry to take it into his own hands. He rolled up his sleeve, showing Harry where it was connected to his arm. "How does it feel?"

"Strong." Cedric answered, giving it a squeeze. Harry prodded it with his black wand, muttering something under his breath though it wasn't a spell. "I…I wanted to say thank you, Harry." Cedric began, his voice trembling. "You saved my life, I know it. If it wasn't for you, wasn't for your magic, your quick thinking, I would have died out there. Thank you, brother."

Harry's eyes flicked up to Cedric, and they stared at each other for a moment or two before he gave the man a smile. "Farbento," He murmured; Cedric's hand glowed for a second, a silver and eerie glow, then changed into a tan color, matching Cedric's skin. "There." He said, tossing his wand onto the couch and leaning back in his chair.

Cedric flexed it, making a fist, feeling the strength of it. He knew it was the same hand, that same silver hand that Harry had created for him, just a different color, but he couldn't help it; it seemed different somehow. Just then, there was a knock on the door, it was open so they saw who it was: Roger and Viktor, followed closely by Remus, Sirius, and Kingsley. They all came in, not needing an invitation, Roger carrying a bottle of mead, and took a seat on the couch, the sofa, and the chairs; Harry gave them a small, grateful smile, knowing exactly why they were there. After receiving a glass, Harry raised it into the air, saluting them before downing it, losing himself in the taste.

"Not stu…stu…stuttering anymore, huh, Quirrell?" Draco Malfoy sneered at the wizard, walking out of Voldemort's throne room as a group of six Death Eaters, all of whom had escaped from Azkaban with the Dementors, waited to enter.

"It was an act, you fool." Quirrell replied with a scowl. Before Draco knew what was happening, the wizard flicked his wand at the man, screaming, "Crucio!" The red bolt of energy traveled at Draco, engulfing him in excruciating pain. After a few seconds, Quirrell released the spell, laughing maniacally with the other Death Eaters who had watched. "Know your place," he said as the group walked into the room that Voldemort was waiting for them in, leaving Draco rolling on the floor, the pain from the curse causing his body to convulse. "Master," Quirrell whispered, bowing in front of Voldemort with the rest of the Death Eaters.

"Ah," Voldemort smiled, showing his teeth. "Quirinus, just the person I wanted to see." He said, gesturing for the six Death Eaters to stand. "I have a mission for you: I want you to lead a group into Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts, my lord?" Quirrell replied, worriedly. With Dumbledore amping the already formidable wards of Hogwarts, it would be next to impossible to get in. "Forgive me, but I don't see a way past the wards."

"Leave that to Yaxley and his boy to figure out." Voldemort answered, sneering at the very name of Yaxley: a Death Eater who would pay for his disloyalty one way or another. Before his first downfall, Voldemort had favored Yaxley, some would say even liked the wizard. But now, after living as less than the meanest ghost for twenty years, Voldemort had seen Yaxley's true colors: a coward, and a two-bit wizard.

"And who would you want me to bring with me, my lord?" Quirrell asked, looking at Voldemort with wide, excited eyes. He would get to prove himself, to showcase his skill to his lord once again; he had yearned for this chance since the day he had met the dark wizard.

"Your choice." Voldemort replied, casually. "I'm trusting you to concoct a plan that will send Hogwarts spinning, though it is Yaxley's son's job to figure out just how you are to get inside the school. Perhaps," Voldemort said silkily, looking towards the five Death Eaters behind Quirrell. "Your Azkaban fellows, those who are loyal, would like to take part? Avery? Travers? Mulciber? Gibbon? Jugson? What say you?"

"Of course, my lord." They all said in unison, smirking aggressively. Being in Azkaban for so long, away from the world, away from their magic, made them all want to stretch their wings, and get out there…to hurt, kill, maim, and torture, but most of all to use their magic again. They had a taste of it during the raid on Portree's stadium, but they wanted more—the attack didn't quench their thirst.

"Good," Voldemort nodded, pacing around the room. "Now, Quirrell, I expect you to be ready in three weeks time." He watched Quirrell nod, then gestured for the door. "Leave me." They all bowed, and left quickly, not wanting to press their luck.

Quirrell walked through the halls, heading to the apparation point, where he could return to his home: abandoned and relatively unknown to everyone. Biting his lip, he thought about his plan, what to do and how to do it. Even with the lack of information Voldemort had offered, he knew the relative idea to it: kill Dumbledore and make Hogwarts weak. With Dumbledore out of the picture, the wizarding world would stop fighting, having only Harry Potter to unite under. And with the young wizard's age, Quirrell doubted many would be willing to fight for someone that young.

The morning sun shined into Harry and Nymphadora's bedroom the next morning. The stream of light crept through the shades and splashed Tonks' sleeping form; her hand immediately jumped up to cover her eyes, as she groaned and rolled over. She patted the place next to her, expecting it to be filled by Harry, but it was empty, void of her husband. She rested up on her elbows, her eyes scanning the room; then, when she saw Harry was nowhere to be seen, she got up, and padded out, wondering where he could be.

She walked down the hall, heading to Harry's office, where the door was opened. Coming into the room, she smiled as she saw Harry asleep on the couch, a book opened up on his chest. She stood there, she didn't know how long, just watching him, her smile never leaving her face. His chest rose up and down, taking in big gulps of air, his heart beating slowly, loudly, and relaxingly. She inched closer to him, sitting on the couch and snuggling into his chest, his hand instinctively coming down to wrap around her, and before she knew it, she was asleep again.

"Velehieb!" Albus Dumbledore shouted, pointing his wand at a large golden ring, set with a black, scruff-marked stone. A jet of yellow light, the color of a sunflower, jolted out of the wand tip and rushed at the stone, hitting it a second later with a loud and echoing bang. There was a struggle for a brief moment, the curses and wards put on the ring shielding it, before the yellow energy pulsed, and cracked the stone, splitting it straight down the center. The instant the stone was cracked, an ear-splitting scream rung out, and Dumbledore dropped his wand from his left hand; his normal wand hand, his right, was badly burned and almost completely black of color. "Phineas, get Harry." Dumbledore struggled out, falling back into his desk chair, his eyes closed.

Phineas Nigellus disappeared from his frame, reappearing a few seconds later. "My descendent Sirius is getting Potter as we speak, Headmaster." He said, somewhat nicely, his contemptuous scowl not on his face.

They waited patiently, quietly, the other Headmasters and Headmistresses watching over Dumbledore, staring down at him with worried eyes. Then, with a great blast of green flames, Harry stepped out of the fireplace, his lips pursed together. Spotting the pale and weak Dumbledore, he ran over to the aged wizard, his wand out and at the ready. "Albus!" He said, incredulously. "What happened?"

Seeing what was wrong, the burned hand, Harry ran his wand over it, and then pointed its tip at the wrist, muttering incantations. By now Dumbledore's eyes were closed, and darkness was beginning to overtake him. Harry continued his spell casting, and then stopped, rising to his feet and running over to the fireplace. Throwing down some floo powder, he flooed home, needing a very special potion to save Dumbledore.

He ran through the halls of his house, skidding around corners until he came to his potion room; he threw open the door, and rushed to the worktable. He grabbed a vial of potion, green in color, and a bottle of dittany. He unstoppered the vial and bottle, dropping a bubble of dittany into the green liquid; it smoked up, and turned a brilliant gold, thick in texture. Turning back around, he rushed to the fireplace, vial of potion in hand, and flooed back to the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore sagged sideways in the throne-like chair behind the desk, apparently semiconscious. His right hand was dangling by his side, blackened and burned, right where Harry had left it. Harry rushed to the Headmaster's side, unstoppering the vial of gold potion, a healing brew, opening Dumbledore's mouth and tipping it down the man's throat. Using his other hand, he recited a spell that made Dumbldore's hand twitch, as if the aged wizard was moving it himself. After a moment or two, Dumbledore's eyelids fluttered and opened, his blue eyes shined with new life, and he seemed to chipper up a little bit. Even still, he was still considerably weakened, and dazed.

Without saying a word to him, Harry pointed his wand at Dumbledore's wrist and said a few more spells quickly; a haze left his wand, connecting with Dumbledore's hand and engulfing it. "It is a miracle you managed to return here!" Harry sounded furious. He reached down and grabbed the ring that was on Dumbledore's desk, studying it closely, examining it, and then putting it back down. "That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being."

"You have done very well, Harry." Dumbledore said, raising his blackened, useless hand, and examining it with the expression of one being shown an interesting curio. "I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Harry." He went silent for a second, looking out of the window, then turned back to Harry. "How long do you think I have?" He said, his tone conversational, as if they were talking about the weather.

Harry hesitated, and then said, "I cannot tell. Maybe a month or two, three if you're lucky. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time." It was a blow, even to Harry himself, realizing that the great Albus Dumbledore, a phenomenally powerful wizard, was to die in two months time: sixty short days.

"Death is just the next great adventure, Harry, remember that." Dumbledore smiled, seemingly okay with his imminent death. He had work to do still, he knew, but he was ready for death, ready to take that next adventure.

"If only you had summoned me a little earlier, I could have contained it, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time!" Harry said, angrily. Then Harry looked down at the broken ring, questioningly. "Did you think that breaking the ring that would break the curse?"

"Something like that…I was delirious, no doubt…" Dumbledore answered, somewhat uncomfortably. He closed his eyes for a second, thinking, and then opened them, knowing Harry would continue his questioning.

"Why," said Harry, without preamble, "Why did you put on that ring? Surely you realized that it carried a curse. Why even touch it?" He questioned, confused by Dumbledore's actions; they were not cautious, and they seemed almost reckless.

Dumbledore grimaced. "I…was a fool. Sorely tempted…" He murmured, his voice cracking a little.

"Tempted by what?" Harry asked, a mix of disbelief and curiosity in his voice. What could be important enough to cause the great Albus Dumbledore to go against his nature and knowledge, to go against his immense intellect, and risk his life like that?

The Headmaster waited a moment before answering, and when he did, it was in the form of a question. "What do you know about the Deathly Hallows, Harry?"

"Deathly Hallows?" Harry cocked an eyebrow, wondering what the three mystical and magical objects had to do with anything. "You mean the story of the three brothers?"

"Ah, yes, the charismatic and illusive three brothers." Dumbledore nodded, cradling his charred hand. "The three wizard brothers who met with Death and received gifts for their ingenuity in bypassing death. One gift was the Elder Wand, made from a branch plucked from an Elder tree; the second was the Resurrection Stone, created from a stone found on the river bed and enchanted by Death; the last was the Cloak of Invisibility, which was taken from Death's very own back."

Harry stayed silent, still wondering just where this was going. He knew about the Deathly Hallows; he thought they were legend and myth, but still, he knew about them, so why the history lesson? "Go on." He prodded, wanting to know what it was that Dumbledore was talking about and why he was bringing it up. Dumbledore smiled, a wide grin, and gestured down to his desk with his left hand, to the golden ring. Harry stared at it, at the black stone set within the gold, his mind racing, and his eyes widening after a second or two. "You mean…that's…can't be."

"That's why I was tempted, Harry." Dumbledore answered. "Once I saw the ring, and I saw the insignia set in the stone, the image of the Deathly Hallows, I knew just what it was I had found, what it was that Voldemort had made into a Horcrux. Though, I doubt he knew, or else he would have held it close to him, protected it more carefully."

"How did he even get it? Who made it into a ring?" Harry said, not taking his eyes off of the ring; he stared at it, almost greedily like. Oh, what he would give to use it to talk to his parents, to see their faces just once.

"The three brothers, Harry, are the Peverell brothers: Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus." Dumbledore replied, running a finger over his eyebrow in thought. "Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, is related to Cadmus Peverell through his Gaunt blood, and he stole the ring from his uncle, and made it into a Horcrux." Dumbledore smiled. "I know what you're thinking, the Deathly Hallows are fake, they couldn't have gotten them from Death. But, and I know you'll agree with this assessment, I believe that the three brothers, being exceptionally powerful wizards, created the three objects themselves."

"So Lord Voldemort is related to both Salazar Slytherin and Cadmus Peverell?" Harry whistled, amazed at the man's pedigree. In a way, Voldemort did have a reason to be proud of his wizarding heritage.

"Yes, well," Dumbledore nodded. "He isn't the last descendant of the Peverell brothers, you know." Dumbledore said, mysteriously. "You are related to Ignotus Peverell through your father, and I, myself, am related to Antioch Peverell, the oldest brother, through my father. Along with my brother, we are the last descendants of the Peverell family: you, me, Aberforth, and Tom."

"I am?" Harry gasped, surprised. He never knew, never even thought about the possibility of being a Peverell. All he knew for fact was that, through his paternal grandmother Dorea, he was related to the Blacks.

"I believe so, Harry." Dumbledore replied, a knowing gleam in his eye. There was something that the man wasn't telling him, but Harry did not push it, knowing the great wizard had his reasons, plus, with his hand the way it was, he didn't want to cause the man any more stress. "Also, Harry, I am relinquishing control of the Order of the Phoenix into your able and capable hands."

"What?" Harry gaped, gobsmacked. Was he ready to lead the fight as the number one man in charge of the Order? Was he qualified enough, good enough to? His eyes fell to the floor as he internally debated that one question: was he ready?

"I have other things to attend to, and in order to fight Voldemort, our undivided attention must be committed to the Order. That, unfortunately, is something I cannot do, as I work on a way to defeat Voldemort for good. Therefore, I am handing control over to you, Harry, in my stead." Dumbledore recited, as if he was reading from a note card, though his eyes never left Harry's. His twinkling blue eyes poured in Harry's green ones, unflappably, a small smile on his aged and wrinkled face. He knew the young wizard was ready, more than ready, and would lead the Order just as he had.

Harry bit down on his lip, easily, then gave a small nod, agreeing. He was good enough, was prepared enough, was experienced enough to lead the light, he only had to step up. With Dumbledore's fate already written, he knew the Order would be his to lead soon, he just never imagined it would be this soon. "I'll do it," He said, quietly. A few minutes later, Harry called it a night, checking on Dumbledore's hand one last time fore flooing home and falling asleep, his dreams riddled with images of Voldemort.

AN: The etymology of the spells in this chapter.

**Velehieb**: releases of jet of energy that inflicts poison and pressure upon an object; it's like the strike of a Basilisk fang. Velento is venom in Italian, and Hieb is blow/strike in German.

**Farbento: **changes the color of an object.Farbe is color in German, and Cambiamento is change in Italian.


	25. When one door closes

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I know, it's been awhile since my last update, I'm sorry! I've been busy with school and another story that I've been writing that will be in route to a publisher soon!

S/N 2: This chapter really pushes the story forward, somewhat fast, but this was always my plan. I hope you enjoy, and are excited for the coming chapters—trust me, some of the stuff that is going down is exciting!

Chapter 25: When one door closes…

The Death Eaters bowed as Voldemort spoke to them; his voice a snake-like hiss. He barked his orders, duties that the Death Eaters were to perform for the week, as he had other things to attend to—more important, more precious jobs that had to be performed by the Dark Lord himself. Then he was done and he dismissed them with a wave of his hand, not saying anything as he marched out of the room, arrogantly and quietly, his crimson eyes narrowed in concentration. The meetings had been like this for the last few weeks, short and to the point, the Dark Lord always seeming to be busy with something else; what that something else was, however, was unknown to the unwashed masses, to his loyal and feared Death Eaters.

Quirinus Quirrell's eyes darted around the room as the Death Eaters made to leave; he was scanning, searching for someone or something. They stopped on a stout figure for a second, and he made his way towards him, reaching out and tapping his shoulder with his right pointer finger. The man, who was dressed in a long black cloak, turned around snarling, his teeth yellow and pointed, before stopping, having seen who it was. "Greyback," Quirrell said, a smirk forming on his pale features. "I'm in need of your…services."

Fenrir Greyback cocked an eyebrow, knowing this was going to be good as he could see the crazy gleam in Quirrell's eyes. "Tell me when and where." Greyback guffawed, his disgusting and blood-soaked teeth showing. Even in human form, his features were akin to a wolf, being bestial and wolf-like. He had wild gray and brown hair, long, sharp fingernails, and an amber tint to his eyes that were so alike an animal's.

Quirrell spoke to Greyback quickly and quietly, making sure no one overheard, and then ran after another Death Eater who was just exiting the room, needing to talk to Yaxley: Yaxley's entry point would be pivotal to the plan, and would decide just what it was that Quirrell was going to do. "How is your son getting us into Hogwarts, Yaxley?" The ex-professor asked, a touch of venom in his voice.

"I…we don't know yet." Yaxley replied, nervously. His eyes darted up to Quirrell's, a look of concern and fear in them. Yaxley was known for his political powers, for his talent to garner power within the Ministry, rather than his magical powers; his ability with his wand wasn't near Quirrell's.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Quirrell spat, disgustedly. He hated ineptitude, and could barely live with himself in Azkaban, knowing that he was too incompetent to get the Sorcerer's stone for his master. "If he fails, I fail…and that I will not accept."

"Please," Yaxley begged, putting his hand on Quirrell's shoulder. "Help him, help us. Carelton shouldn't be punished for my mistakes, for my problems."

Quirrell threw Yaxley's hand off of his shoulder, but looked at the man curiously, as if sizing him up. "There is a room," He said, slowly, enunciating every word. "That can give the person who asks any room shape they want. If, and only if, your son asks for a way into Hogsmeade via that room, we just might be able to sneak in."

Yaxley's eyes went wide, as excitement radiated off of him. Finally, at long last, he had a way to protect his son, a way to do what Voldemort had asked for him. He had stayed up night after night, losing sleep, going over plans, searching for something, any way past the almost impeccable wards of the school. He had come up with nothing, and he knew, knew in his heart, that his son, his only son, was going to die just because his father was inept.

"Calm down, Yaxley, you look like a dog that's about to go for a walk." Rabastan Lestrange said, leaning up against the wall a few feet behind Yaxley. Silently, he had watched the exchange go down, hidden in the shadows, snooping around.

The man turned around quickly, not liking nor trusting Rabastan. "Shut up, you have no idea what you're talking about. You might have been in Azkaban, but you're still a nobody." Yaxley sneered, his eyes twitching in hatred.

Rabastan gave a smirk; it was eerie and calm, not showing any anger at the insult that he was just paid. "Oh? I don't know that for payment of not being in Azkaban," He paused for a second, allowing the prison of Azkaban to strike fear into Yaxley's heart. "That now your son has to get Death Eaters into Hogwarts, or else he'll die? Is that something I supposedly don't know, or was there something else?"

"Don't you dare mention, speak, or even think about my son!" Yaxley growled, angry at Rabastan's gall. He gripped his wand, flashing it at Rabastan underneath his cloak.

Rabastan nodded and smiled, still calm, still serene. It seemed as if no matter what Yaxley said, whatever insults were thrown his way, whatever threats were laid, nothing could or would get under Rabastan's skin. He put up his hands in mock surrender, not wanting to fight the other man. "I know what you're going through, I was simply throwing out a hand, something that doesn't come very often in our circle."

"What would you know?" Yaxley spat, though his anger didn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't know what it's like having a son that could be ripped from you, just because of the mistakes you've made in your life. He doesn't deserve that; he's a good boy, smart, funny, like his mother."

"I know a lot more than you think." Rabastan replied, his tone turning sorrowful. He took a breath, his eyes closing for just a second, and then continued. "I know what its like to have a son and be a Death Eater, a servant of our lord, at the same time. It's almost, unless you're like Malfoy, Nott, or those two idiots in Crabbe and Goyle, impossible to have those two parts of you coexist. Tell me, does your son believe in pureblood supremacy?"

Yaxley looked down at the floor, his thoughts muddled. "I…I don't actually know. We've raised him pretty good, but I've never seen him hate on a mudblood before, now that I think about it."

"Hm." Rabastan huffed, a small smile appearing on his face. "If I were in your shoes, I'd get Quirrell into Hogwarts, then get your son out and safe as soon as I could."

"You expect me to be able to hide him from the Dark Lord?" Yaxley asked, though it was rhetorical. "We both know that isn't possible; the Dark Lord always knows."

"If you do your job, and he does his job, the Dark Lord shouldn't be after him once he accomplishes it." Rabastan reminded Yaxley, turning and walking down the hall, blending into the shadows and disappearing from sight. Yaxley, from his spot, stared at where Rabastan was for a second, before sighing and walking out of the manor, past the wards and apparating out.

At Grimmauld Place, Harry and Dumbledore were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on tea and eating teacakes. A meeting was set to begin in a little less than an hour, and the pair was deeply engrossed in a conversation about the security of the muggle Prime Minister; Kingsley had assigned another Auror to work alongside him in the Prime Minister's office, afraid that a Death Eater attack was imminent. The Auror's name was Proudfoot, and was quickly rising in the Auror ranks ever since Voldemort had shown himself.

"You almost got me killed!" A voice roared out, suddenly as a person entered the house. There was a clatter, and the front door slammed shut, another voice entering the conversation. Harry and Dumbledore both jumped up, running out to the main entrance wanting to see what was happening. There, facing one another, were the two spies of the Order, not ten feet away from the other, ready and willing to attack.

"Yes," Severus Snape sneered back; his dark eyes stared straight at Kylie's shadowed face, almost mockingly. "And if I didn't, then the Order would have lost both of their spies within Voldemort's ranks." He continued, righteous anger and contempt rising up in his belly, like some great wave of emotion that had been waiting to be let free for a long, long time. He was the spy; he was the one that risked his life gathering information, not some two-bit friend of Potter's.

"I saved your butt last time, and you just throw me under the bus?" Kylie, the wizard only known by a pseudonym, growled, as anger began to radiate off of him. His voice was crackling, losing the masked effect it normally had.

"Well, maybe if you were a better wizard then you wouldn't need to be thrown under said bus." Snape smirked at him, clearly and undeniably in a mocking fashion.

"Better?" The man laughed. "I'm twice the wizard that you'll ever be."

"What happened?" Harry questioned, wondering what was going on, what it was that the pair was arguing about.

"He said there might be another spy within Voldemort's ranks." Kylie said, pointing a deadly finger at Snape. "And, almost immediately, Voldemort came over to my side of the circle, to my group of Death Eaters."

"I had to say it; Voldemort was already suspecting it, at least now it looks like I'm loyal to him." Snape answered, though there was a smirk, the same smirk that the students of Hogwarts had familiarized themselves with, on his sallow face. Kylie growled, threw Snape a dirty look, and walked out of the room, Harry following him all the way.

At the next meeting, two new wizards joined the Order: Tynan Davis, brother of Tracey Davis; and Wayne Hopkins, Harry's friend and former classmate. Invited into the Order by Harry to bolster the groups ranks, the two would secure much needed information from the outskirts of the Wizarding community, the people who weren't known, outright, to be fighting for or against Voldemort. As such, in a way, the pair were like spies, covertly gathering information from the ground up.

They both sat at the end of the table, looking around curiously, silently, taking it all in and allowing themselves to become acclimated to the way things worked. They listened to the first reports from the Aurors, from the Ministry officials, from the Diagon Alley workers, and from Remus, who relayed what was going on with the werewolves. Then, with a thundering shudder, the door at the top of the basement was thrown open, and a man, gigantic in size, marched down, his giant feet shaking and quaking the floor with every step.

"'Ello, everybody." Rubeus Hagrid said, waving, as he came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hagrid," Harry said, looking up at the tall, hairy groundskeeper. He was dirty, and had a few welts on his face, but he was smiling, clearly glad to be back after so long. "Glad you could make it. Come, come, take a seat." Harry gave him a small smile, happy to see the man.

Hagrid nodded, and took the chintz chair that was off to the side, it being the only one big enough to hold his frame. "Ah, right." The half-giant muttered, becoming more and more uncomfortably with the attention he was earning.

"I didn't think you would make it." Harry began, leaning back in his chair to get a better look at Hagrid. "Dumbledore told me you had arrived in the country a day or two ago, but he said you had some business to attend to that would take some time."

"Grawp." Hagrid answered, then, quickly, shook his head, closing his mouth tightly.

Harry laughed, nodded, knowing just what it was Hagrid was taking care of. "Anyway," He said, changing the subject, noticing the curious glances Hagrid was getting from everyone else, clearly wondering just what 'Grawp' was. "Tell us about your journey to the Giants, Hagrid. How did it go?"

"Took us about a month to get there." Hagrid said, starting his tale. "We tried to portkey in, but them ruddy Death Eaters had already protected it. Luckily, the Giants were at war with one another when we got there, so the Death Eaters didn't have that big of a jump on us; they, too, had to wait it out. The Gurg, Karkus, was able to fend off his usurpers the first time, and we got to meet him. He seemed taken with us, and we gave him his present the first day, left, and then came back the next. Unfortunately, the night before, Karkus was killed, decapitated, and the Giants weren't as accepting of us as they were the day before; the Death Eaters having gotten to the new Gurg before we could." Hagrid paused here, gathering his thoughts.

The group hung on Hagrid's every word, wondering just what he was going to say next: did he or did he not get the giants? They sat at the edge of their seats, intently staring upon the half-giant. Taking a breath, Hagrid continued, "Macnair was able to seduce a few of them to You-Know-Who's side." Hagrid laughed, nervously. "We were attacked; Golgomath, the Gurg, tried to kill us, but with a little help from Olympe's wand she protected both of us—ruddy marvelous with magic, she did some of the fastest spell work I've ever seen. When we saw it was a lost cause, we made sure they knew that joining the war for You-Know-Who wasn't in their best interests, and left."

"So the Giants aren't coming?" Hermione questioned, a little disappointed.

"No, don't count on it." Hagrid said, uncomfortably; his face was red, and sweat was beginning to mount on his forehead. He seemed, to Harry, to be hiding something, but the man did not push it, not wanting to cause a seen.

"Well," Harry sighed, taking a few notes with his quill. "We never expected them to actually come help after the way the Ministry's treated them, we just wanted to make sure they didn't come at Voldemort's request. So, in a way, the mission was a successful one, thank you, Hagrid." He looked around the table, seeing everyone and making eye contract, then, his attention turning to a parchment in front of him, he said, "If that's all, then this meeting is adjourned."

A month passed with Voldemort consistently attacking the wizarding world. Diagon Alley was flooded with Aurors and Hitwizards all day, constantly patrolling the area, trying to keep the wizards and witches who were brave enough to leave their houses safe. The muggle community was also noticing distinct changes, too, as 'terrorists' had blown up bridges and buildings; plus, there was a never-ending fog that seemed oddly out of season. The Dementors, of course, had been breeding, spreading their depression like a plague, creating a dark and moody atmosphere around the country.

It was late November, just a few days away from December that found Harry in the Headmaster's office. "Harry, I want to talk to you about…about Grindelwald." Dumbledore said, slowly, staring at Harry with his blue eyes. Underneath his light blue robes was his blackened hand, dead and lifeless, unmovable and unusable, hidden away from the eyes of the world.

"You've never spoken to me about him, about your battle, before." Harry replied, leaning forward in his chair. Whatever information he had about the Dark Lord came from books, not personal accounts from his defeater himself. Albus Dumbledore solidified himself as the greatest wizard in the world by defeating Grindelwald, a man who was touted at the time to be the most evil and dangerous wizard that's ever been; that was a time before Lord Voldemort had risen, of course. Even so, even to this day, Grindelwald was still looked upon as a person, as a wizard to be feared, the second to worst evil wizard the world had ever seen: ahead of Herpo the Foul, ahead of Morgana, and even ahead of Salazar Slytherin.

"I've never spoken about it and him ever, not to you, not to anyone." Dumbledore replied, solemnly. "Truth is, I'm embarrassed and ashamed."

"Of what, sir?" Harry questioned, not understanding why his mentor would be ashamed. What could have possibly happened, what could have went down, that would have the man, the most noble and respected man Harry knew, embarrassed?

"Grindelwald, Gellert rather, was and is my best friend; the only one I've ever been able to call a peer, an equal. He's the only one I've ever felt…normal to be around, because he was brilliant. He's the only one I've felt comfortable talking to, asking for help, sharing my feelings with, etc." Dumbledore ran a finger across his aged forehead. "I was the one who had to stop him, and for that…for betraying him, I'm ashamed. I know that it was for the greater good, and he has no ill will towards me for doing it, but that still does not change anything or lessen my feelings." Seeing Harry's face, the great wizard sighed. "I know I could do all those things with you, Harry, but I think of you as a grandson and a student. Someone who is learning from me, not someone who has learned with me; although, we all learn from each and every day of our lives."

"I understand, sir, don't try to defend yourself for me. I know I'm young and ignorant still." Harry gave Dumbledore a small smile, hoping to bring a little lightheartedness to the conversation; he could see the older wizard was in pain, both mentally and physically. "I'd like to hear more about Grindelwald, sir."

"He was brilliant, maybe even more so than myself." Dumbledore stated, looking out of the window; his eyes were full of emotion. "I met him a week after I got out of Hogwarts, he had moved to Godric's Hollow to live with Bathilda Bagshot, his great-aunt, after having been expelled from Durmstrang. We immediately hit it off, and for a time, we were not unlike you and your group of friends: we both wanted the same thing. Then, however, something happened: my brother, Aberforth, came home from Hogwarts and told us that we couldn't take Ariana, my sister, with us on our world tour. That tour, of course, was to gather followers for us to help in our desire to rule muggles for the greater good." His eyes shifted over to Harry, wondering how the man would react at the pronouncement.

"Your mother had died and you took over as the breadwinner of the family, right?" Harry questioned, not surprised that Dumbledore had had those thoughts, thoughts about taking over the muggle world, since he, himself, had had those feelings once. "And your sister was attacked by muggles, which is why your father went to Azkaban, right? I don't know how you do it, Albus, how you continue feeling so happy and cheerful." Harry said, shaking his head.

"Same way you do, Harry." Albus replied, turning his attention from the window to Harry. "Now, Gellert didn't like to be told that he couldn't do something so he turned his wand on Aberforth, using the Cruciatus curse to torture him. There I was, standing in the middle of my living room, watching my best friend torture my younger brother: I acted quickly, rashly, and started a duel with Gellert to get him to stop. Surprised by my actions, Gellert instinctively fought back, with Aberforth joining the fray a second later. Then, suddenly, Ariana came out to help, and I don't know who it was that sent it, but a curse hit her, killing her instantly. The duel immediately stopped, and not wanting to go down for this, Gellert left, leaving Aberforth and I to handle it. A few days later we had her funeral, my brother punched me in the face, and I didn't talk to Gellert for twenty years; though, I know that he was at her funeral, in the back, but he dared not come up."

"You still don't know who it was? Who it was that sent the curse?" Harry asked in a whisper. What happened to Dumbledore's sister, Ariana, was terrible; a tragedy of the highest degree.

"It could have been any one of us: me, Aberforth, Gellert. Who knows?" Dumbledore sighed, looking aged and worn. He couldn't help but blame himself, and holding that burden for over a hundred years was tiring, wearing him out. With his life coming to an end soon, for he knew it was just a few weeks till he'd be gone from this world, he couldn't live with the burden anymore; he wanted and needed to free his mind, his heart, his soul. He was preparing himself for death in more than one way, and his preparations reached out to other people, especially to Harry, who was posed to inherit the most from the Headmaster.

Later that day, Kylie stood in a small alleyway, off of Diagon Alley, next to Flourish and Blotts. He was with someone, a medium sized man, both of their hoods up, blocking out their identities. "You're brave for meeting me here, Rosier, thank you." Kylie said, flicking his wand around and reciting a spell so whoever was near them would hear a buzzing noise in their ears, preventing them from eavesdropping.

"The Order knows of my help, right? They know that I've been helping the right, the light, and the proper side?" Rosier said, nervously, his voice just a whisper. His eyes darted around, looking each everyway, making sure no one was around. He wasn't scared, he could handle himself, but extra attention and caution wasn't too much to ask for; he'd rather be safe than sorry.

"Harry has already been informed, and he thanks you for your help." Kylie nodded, having already told Harry about Rosier's help. Having an allotment of informants, Kylie was able to gather information without showing himself, without putting himself in danger; a trick he began to use after his tussle with Snape.

"You still wont tell me who you are, then?" Rosier asked, quizzically. Having lost his only son, his only heir, Rosier had made up his mind to betray the Dark Lord, and bring about the wizard's end. Truthfully, he didn't know what he was going to do when Voldemort had called him and the other Death Eaters to the graveyard on the night of the Dark Lord's rebirth, but he had made up is mind, after intense deliberation, a few days later; though, at the time, he had no idea on what would be the most effective way to go about his decision. It wasn't until a man calling himself Kylie, a supposed Death Eater on the side of light, came to him one night, asking for help that he began leaking information.

"Not yet, Rosier." Kylie replied, quietly, his tone even. "With time, I will. What do you know?" He questioned, wanting to hear what information the man had, whatever it was.

"Quirrell is planning something with Yaxley and Greyback, something big." Rosier answered, quickly. "Only a few upper levels Death Eaters know about it; they were the ones who whispered a few kernels of information to me, allowing me to splice it together from the combined information."

"I see, I see." Kylie nodded, trying to figure out what was happening. It seemed as if Voldemort had given control of the Death Eaters to Quirrell and Barty Crouch, the two highest Death Eaters since Bellatrix Lestrange was still out of commission, for the time being—it looked as if the Dark Lord was up to something. Bellatrix, on the other hand, ever since the duel she had with Harry, where she was hit in the face with a very dangerous and powerful curse, she had not been seen by anyone but Rodolphus, her husband, and rumor had it that the witch was dead— though, Kylie didn't believe it. "Dig around, find out more, but do it carefully."

It was dinnertime a week later, and Harry and the rest were sitting at the table, enjoying one another's presence. He was in the basement of Grimmauld Place, reading the Daily Prophet, tiredly, as the group chatted about random quidditch matches that were being played. "HARRY!" A voice screamed through Grimmauld Place, as a greenish face sprouted up in the fireplace; it was the face of a man, covered by a shadow and wearing a hood.

Harry turned from his seat, dropping his fork on his plate, and looked down into the flames, a nervous energy overtaking him. "What, what is it?" He questioned, hurriedly, wondering what was happening. His eyes met a shadow, but he knew who it was, he knew that voice anywhere.

"There's an attack." Kylie said, his tone loud and reverberating. "Voldemort's attacking Hogwarts!"

"What, where, how?" Sirius gasped, cocking an eyebrow, fearing for the safety of the children. Hogwarts was a bastion of light, a fortress of safety, guarded by the ancient powers of the founders and the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort getting to Hogwarts, getting to the children was all but impossible in most people's minds.

"I don't know where it's coming from, but it's coming soon!" Kylie all but screamed, fear in his eyes. "Go!" Harry looked over to the table, counting up who was there: six people—Tonks, Sirius, Viktor, Gaetana, Neville, and Charlie. They all jumped to their feet, turning and running out of the room, leaving the anti-disapparation wards and immediately apparating to Hogsmeade.

What they saw made them gasp: there, high above the tallest tower, the Astronomy tower, was the Dark Mark. A colossal skull, the dark mark was comprised of what looked to be emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. It was burning in the sky in a haze of greenish smoke, and if you listened closely it seemed to be wailing, an eerie noise that hissed from its mouth. They rushed down the main street of Hogsmeade, Harry muttering the counter jinxes that would open the gates that were nearing, just a hundred feet away.

With a jolt, the metal gates creaked open, their rusty hinges cringing in old age. On the group sprinted, running up the wet and shadowy hills, crossing the dewy terrain, hoping the students of Hogwarts hadn't been hurt. Then, with a great rush of fear, they heard it: howling that sounded through the dark night. The moon, which was high above, was full and round, shinning with a silver brightness that couldn't be matched. Out of the shadows of the Forbidden forest crept a pack of great beasts, as big as the biggest dogs with a thick gray coat of hair and amber eyes that seemed to glow in the night.

"Werewolves." Harry growled, his eyes turning to the pack of six wolves that was racing towards them, not three hundred feet away. "Go, Sirius and I will buy you sometime." He said, turning his back on them: Sirius took a step forward, too. "GO!" He yelled, and the group took off to Hogwarts, Tonks giving one last look to her husband. Immediately, Harry shifted into his tiger form, a big, black dog appearing next to him a second or two later.

The werewolves ran towards them, their amber eyes filled with a bloodlust that went unmatched; their howls of excitement being barked out into the cold, dark night. Their attack, upon reaching the tiger and dog, was quick and rough, though went equally matched in Sirius and Harry's counter attacks. The tiger, being the strongest of all the animals, quickly subdued two of the wolves, pinning them down to the ground with his big, white paws. Then, with a flash of blood, one of the wolves, a third one that was fighting Harry, bit into the tiger's hind leg.

The tiger gave a great roar, though it was more of a snarl, aimed directly at his attacker. The wolf, entrenched in animal instincts that clouded its better judgment, didn't release, instead tightening its grip. Harry shook him off, the wolf being flown across the ground as a result, and then pounced on it. His jaws wrapped around the beast's back, and with a nod of his gigantic white head, the wolf was sent flying; crashing against the boulder, it released a pain-filled yelp and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Sirius, meanwhile, was having a harder time with his wolves. Being the same size as the great black dog, the wolves triple teamed him, biting and scratching, drawing crimson red blood. Finally, with a great shake of his canine body, Sirius threw a wolf off, allowing him to attack the other two with all his attention. His pointed teeth bit into one of the werewolves, who howled in pain, and then he pushed the werewolf's body down into the ground, grinding him up against the rocks and dirt. The other werewolf Sirius was fighting lunged towards the unattentive dog, but was tackled to the ground by the tiger; they rolled around for a few seconds before the wolf was pinned, hurt. Harry went to go help Sirius with the last wolf, but before he could, a howl, loud and eerie, cut across the darkness.

Bruised, bloodied, and tired, Harry, in tiger form, turned his white head towards the tree line, and came in eyesight of the biggest, most ferocious looking werewolf he had ever seen. _Greyback_, he thought to himself, bracing for a fight. Sure enough, the wolf came charging out, barking loud with a hint of madness in his amber, canine eyes. Greyback leaped at Harry, knocking the tiger back onto his hind legs, where the tiger was able to claw at the wolf's face with his front paws. The wolf ducked, bringing his head up into the tiger's chest, painfully.

The pair rolled around, Greyback being surprisingly stronger than the other werewolves, taking Harry back in shock. They continued to roll, scratching, clawing and biting at each other, blood and fur being thrown into the air. Then, with a deep bark, the gigantic black dog tackled the wolf, pinning him, though it wouldn't last, as the wolf was stronger, somehow. Harry slashed the wolf's side with his claws, making Greyback howl in pain, as blood began to seep out of the wound. Again Harry slashed, knowing that Sirius was growing just as tired as he was and they wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer, drawing blood on Greyback's muzzle.

Greyback howled, long and deep, as he kicked the dog off of him using his hind legs; the black dog, Sirius, landed hardly and did not rise, leaving Harry alone with Greyback. The tiger, limping, circled around the wolf, which looked worse for the wear. Again the wolf howled, his amber, canine eyes looking into the sky, as if he was calling someone or something. Taking one last look at the tiger, the wolf ran back into the woods, anticlimactically. Harry, in tiger form, titled his head to the side, confusedly, before dropping, too tired to stand, too tired to do anything. He didn't notice, however, the black masses that came flying out of the forest, racing towards them.

A pack of Dementors, twenty in number, flew towards the downed tiger and dog—the dew on the lawn icing up around them. The moon, which was high and bright, seemed to be dulled by their presence, as if the very darkness that the Dementors brought were more powerful than the moon, a force of nature. They swooped down, bringing with them their ability to make people see their worst memories, their worst fears. Immediately, even in their animal forms, Sirius and Harry felt it, as thoughts, the worst thoughts they could have, flooded into the mind.

They couldn't take it, couldn't stand it. The Dementors directed their powers straight at the animals, somehow knowing, though neither Harry nor Sirius knew how, that they were humans. They both reverted to their human appearances at the same time, their skin pale and clammy as they convulsed on the ground. Harry raised his wand to the sky, saying "Expecto Patronum," but nothing came: not even an incorporeal shield. Again he tried, but the same effect. Nothing. His eyes dimmed, he was too tired to keep them open, and he passed out, his head hitting the ground. "Sirius." He muttered, before dropping into unconsciousness.

Albus Dumbledore whizzed up the circular stairs of Hogwarts, heading straight towards the Astronomy tower's entrance. He swished his wand, creating a hole in the wards that the Death Eaters had put, the same ones that Minerva McGonagall couldn't get through—she was the one who had alerted him of their, and the Death Eaters, presence. His dead right hand was hanging loosely by his side, its singed fingers curled up, locked in place, dead. He felt the magic tingle over him, granting him passage past the invisible barrier as he continued onto his destination. Coming to the top of the stairs, he glanced down the hallway to the left and right: shadowed and dark, but nothing there, yet even still he felt something.

He entered the round, circular room, its open archways in the wall, which allowed the students to gaze at the stars unhindered, allowing a cool wind to blow through. He stepped, slowly, towards one of the windows, his wand in front of him and his eyes wide, aware of the danger. Noticing no one was there, which was perplexing, he relaxed a little, and stepped towards the archways, his gaze traveling down to the lawn, the lands of Hogwarts. Immediately, he saw Harry and Sirius being attacked by Dementors, the fiends flying towards them, hovering above, intent on sucking out their souls.

"Harry," Dumbledore whispered under his breath, taking out his wand and reciting a spell. A silver, mist-like beam of energy left his wand, shaping and forming into a big, silver bird that sailed down to the grounds, circling around the black-cloaked Dementors. The patronus, which was clearly a Phoenix, drove the Dementors away, filling up Harry and Sirius with the joy and hope that the beasts had zapped away.

"Expelliarmus!" A voice said from behind, shooting Dumbledore's wand from out of his hands, where it landed on the ground, a few feet away. "Well, well, well, we have Dumbledore unarmed." Quirinus Quirrell mocked, coming into the room fully. Seven other Death Eaters came in behind him, each holding their wand pointed at Dumbledore, straight at his chest, ready and waiting.

"Quirinus." Dumbledore nodded, his eyes shifting around the room, while he hid his cursed arm behind him, hiding it from sight. The arm was making him so weak, slowly draining away his powers and energy, and he could feel his magic slipping away into oblivion.

"No need to draw this out," Quirrell drawled, moving his wand about. "Avada Kedavra!" He recited, and there was a jet of green light, which rushed towards Dumbledore as if it was a great beast, and hit him square in the chest.

The impact pushed him over the edge, and he fell from the tower, his lifeless body falling through the air, crashing down to the lawn below. Quirrell inched towards the window, an unbelieving look upon his face: his eyes slowly moved down to the tower bottom, hoping that Dumbledore's body wouldn't move—wouldn't miraculously rise from the dead. After a minute of studying, Quirrell smiled, a vicious and evil smile, concluding that Dumbledore really was dead. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age, was dead, fallen on the grounds of the school that he loved so much—giving up his life in exchange for the life of his grandson, Harry Potter.

As Albus Dumbledore's breath left him, and his heart stopped its constant beating, the wards in place on a the peak of tall, black-stoned tower fell. The tip of the tower, which housed a lone room, stripped bear and cell-like, was the home of a single individual. Gaunt and toothless, the aged man furrowed his eyebrows, glancing around the cell confusedly. He rose to his feet, then frowned, realizing just what had happened; _he's dead_, he thought to himself. Walking over to the door, he slowly and cautiously reached for the knob, and held his breath as he gave it a small turn. It clicked open with a low creak, and he let out a breath, glad to finally be free. He continued on, down the stairs and out of the tower, where he looked at it once more, before disappearing in the darkened forest that reached out with its velvety blackness. "I'm sorry, my friend." He whispered to himself, a frown on his face in spite of the fact that he just got out of his prison.


	26. Another door opens

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I know this chapter has been a long time coming, and it's not very action-packed, but this was a needed chapter that starts everything going. The next few chapters will be all about Harry and his hunt, and a few twists and surprises along the way.

S/N 2: Yes, yes, the decoration of the trunk and some of the stuff inside of it is complete symbolism for all of the made up rumors for Harry Potter book titles that littered the Internet for years before all of the books were out. The pillar's names come from the four types of love that exist.

Chapter 26: Another door opens…

With their mission accomplished, the Death Eaters, led by Quirrell took off out of the tower, heading towards the Hogwarts doors. They passed portraits who hissed at them, running down the circular stairwell, the wards and curses that they put up to prevent anyone from coming up having no effect on them. Then they hit a road block: there, with their wands raised, stood ten people, a mixture of Order Members, Aurors, and Teachers—Nymphadora Potter, Viktor Krum, Hermione Krum, Filius Flitwick, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Gaetana Robards, Pomona Sprout, Neville Longbottom, and Charlie Weasley.

The battle erupted, curses and jinxes bouncing off the wall, hitting the people in a random order. The Death Eaters, for the most part, were smart enough not to send killing curses, as with the close proximity of the fight and the narrow halls, the green lights were more likely to hit them or their comrades instead of the Order. Instead of fighting to win, the dark wizards were fighting to get out of Hogwarts, knowing that an extended battle would end badly for them. Gibbon bashed a hole in the Order's line, big enough to grant them passage, with a blasting curse—stone and dust flew up into the air, creating a haze that blocked people's view.

"Let's go!" Quirrell called out, running past the Order members, who were covering their eyes, trying to breath through the dust. The Death Eaters followed closely behind him, the soles of their shoes hitting against the cold, hard stone floor with a loud slap. Through the halls they ran, passing by the metal armor statues and portraits that were screaming at them. They came upon the main set of stairs, the ones that moved, and jumped down onto the platform below. Then, as they landed, the stairway shifted, and the only way to go was up, right where the Order members had regrouped. Then, with a simple flick of Quirrell's wand, the battle ensued: the Order versus the Death Eaters.

Single duels weren't happening, as it was one big scuffle, spells ricocheting each everywhere. As they were fighting, the Death Eaters, who had stayed close together, backed down the stairs, slowly, heading for the exit, knowing that they wouldn't win an extended fight. Finally, after ten minutes, they caught a break: being close enough to the ground that they could jump, they did, landing on the stone first floor with a thud and a roll. They immediately got up and sprinted towards the door that was down the hall, blasting it open with a hex, entering the grounds.

They ran, running faster than they ever had before, being chased by the Order, hoping and needing to get out of the anti-disapparation wards that Hogwarts had. As they passed Hagrid's hut, Gibbon lit it on fire as a distraction to the Order, who, knowing it could spread, would slow down to put it out. They, however, didn't: being so entrenched in capturing the Death Eaters they continued on, not even stopping when they saw Sirius and Harry lying on the ground, still and unmoving. Closer to the gates they ran, nearing them, blocking jinx and spells that were coming their way from behind. Then, with one great dash, they reached the gates, which were blown of their hinges with a curse; they reached the end of the wards and disapparated, leaving the scene.

With slumped shoulders and deep frowns, the Order and the teachers turned around, marching back up the grounds. Nymphadora and Gaetana ran to Sirius and Harry, who were stirring, though clearly injured. Hermione and Flitwick went over to Hagrid's hut, putting out the fires with a few flicks of their wands. Minerva, however, was heading straight for the Astronomy tower, where she knew Dumbledore was, whether he was injured or not she didn't know. Then, lying there, lying still, at the base of the tower was a body: an aged figure that was face down in the dirt and grass, dead.

Minerva's eyes moved slowly up, up the stone blocks that made up the tower, and saw the opened hole in the wall, directly above where the body laid, a few hundred feet up. "No," Minerva screeched, rushing over to the body, hoping, praying, begging it wasn't who she thought it was. She slid to a halt next to the body, rolling it over and gasping at the sight, the one person she didn't want it to be: Albus Dumbledore. His body was cold, dead, lifeless, his face pale and his blue eyes still open, though they lacked the twinkle that was usually there. Tears immediately flooded her eyes, as her hand jumped to her open mouth.

The others, minus Nymphadora and Gaetana, both of whom had gone to check out Harry and Sirius, gathered around the body, looking down at the corpse of Dumbledore in shock. They couldn't believe it; they couldn't understand how the greatest wizard of the age, one of the best wizards that had ever lived, could be dead. They stood there, shocked, for a few minutes, before draping a cloak over Albus' form, and carrying the body up into Hogwarts, making sure no one, not the students or other teachers, saw who it was; it would be a crushing blow to morale if they knew. They would find out soon enough, but now, after only a minimal amount of time since the death, was not the time.

Voldemort strolled into a torch-lit room; Death Eaters, cloaked and masked, were kneeling, bowing their heads low in a big, tight circle. "How did Potter and his gang of misfits know we were attacking Hogwarts tonight?" Voldemort hissed, walking around the circle, twirling his wand in his hand. "You six," He said, pointing to a group of Death Eaters. "Come here, bow in front of me." The group did as they were told, Kylie being one of them. "You were the only people to know of the attack, outside of the attackers themselves."

_Oh, Merlin, what should I do_, he thought to himself, a bubble of fear rising in his chest. He wasn't scared for his life; he didn't care about that, but now that Dumbledore was dead and with Harry depending on him, and in turn the whole world depending on Harry, he couldn't fail: he wouldn't fail. Voldemort was inching closer to the group, then, thinking quickly, he gripped his wand and screamed _RUN _in his mind. Suddenly, a Death Eater at the end of the row jumped up, and ran for the door. He didn't get far, as a stunner shot him down a few steps away from the exit, his body collapsing to the ground, unconscious. _Damn it, I didn't want to use him so quickly_, he frowned behind his mask.

Voldemort closed the distance on the downed Death Eater, his scarlet eyes filled with controlled rage and hatred. The Dark Lord flicked his wrist, rennerverating the Death Eater with a simple gesture. "Look into my eyes, traitor." He hissed, pouring into the man's dull brown eyes, reading his every thought, feeling, and dream. Finding the memory, Voldemort witnessed the flash of blue light from nowhere, transfixing the Death Eater into a state that would allow the other wizard to control his every move—allowing him to gain access to information as a result. "The Order using Unforgivables? How ironic." Voldemort laughed, breaking the connection and allowing the Death Eater's body to slump back down to the floor, where he landed with a thud.

Kylie cocked an eyebrow as the Dark Lord sent a Cruciatus curse at the Death Eater, knowing that a Cruciatus curse was a form of mercy the Dark Lord had granted: if mercy wasn't granted then it would have been a killing curse sent. The Death Eater was Cade Warrington, a Slytherin student who was a year or two above Harry when they were in Hogwarts. _Good, you deserve it_, he thought to himself as he watched Warrington writhe around in pain. _Next time_, he continued his musing, _don't go around killing innocent people_. Voldemort stopped his torture abruptly, and then he swiftly turned around and walked out of the room silently.

Harry Potter stood on a cliff that ran on the western part of his property, next to his house. He had a hot mug of tea clasped in his hands; his eyes were watching the waves crash against the rocks, as his mind was lost in thought. The sun was just rising in the distance, and as its light touched his face, it illuminated the cuts and bruises that he had, showing the fight he was in the night previously. He gave out a great sigh, his hands bringing the cup up to his lips, and he took a sip, giving into the flavor that soothed and calmed him. His mind couldn't stray from the thought of Albus Dumbledore, the news of his death hitting in straight in the heart: the memory of when he found out would be forever ingrained into his mind.

_He rolled over in the bed he was sleeping in at the Hogwarts Infirmary. As he opened his eyes, Tonks and Madame Pompfrey stood above him, looking down at him with wide eyes. Sirius was asleep in the bed next to him, Emmeline sitting by his bedside. "Ow," He muttered, sitting up; Tonks moved to put a pillow behind his back. _

"_You were cut up pretty bad, Mr. Potter." Pompfrey said, disapprovingly. "Nothing serious, though you did lose a decent amount of blood." She ran her wand over him, checking him one last time before nodding and walking away, back into her office._

"_Harry," Nymphadora said, softly, her natural eyes looking into Harry's green ones. "There's…something happened." She started, nervously. "Dumbledore, well, he's…he died. He was murdered by the Death Eaters." _

_For a second, Harry's heart stopped: it didn't beat, it didn't tick, it just skipped. He stared at his wife for a second, processing it, letting it soak in, before they turned to the white wall in front of him, and he stared aimlessly. "What are we going to do?" He whispered to himself, horror stricken. There would be time to mourn for his grandfather, his tutor, his mentor, but now, now that the greatest wizard to ever live was dead, the world was in trouble, and darkness was spreading. If left unstopped, the darkness would spread, engulfing and consuming the world like a gigantic beast does its prey. _

Now, though, back at his home, in the peace and safety of his house, he couldn't help but want to mourn for Albus Dumbledore. The man was family to him, the grandfather he had always wanted, someone who would care and love him. Even still, a ping in his head refused to allow him to grieve fully, bereaving him of the opportunity, and he knew that what Dumbledore was working on, what he was doing while Harry led the Order, finding the Horcruxes, was now his job; his and only his job. He didn't know what to do, how to handle it now that Dumbledore was gone, unable to give Harry his advice, his help. Before, when Dumbledore was busy and Harry was in charge of the Order, Dumbledore was still there to talk to, but now he was alone, and it scared him tremendously. If he failed, then the world failed, and it would crumble at Voldemort's feet. Sighing, he turned back around and headed into his home, going to his den and losing himself in the tranquility it offered; solitude, warmth, and, in a time that was riddled with fighting, peace.

There was a soft tapping noise coming from the window an hour later. Harry groggily rose to his feet, he had fallen asleep on the couch, and slowly made his way to the window, throwing it open and allowing the bird into the room. The bird was an Osprey, large and black with specks of white on its wings and breast, its brown beak and talons were sharp and curved. The Osprey hobbled in, flapping its wings lightly, and Harry closed the window behind it. With a soft pop, the bird transformed into a tall, weedy human with dark hair and dark eyes: Kylie. "I'm sorry about Dumbledore." The spy said; his voice was filled with sorrow.

"Yeah, I am too." Harry replied, plopping down onto the couch. He gestured to the chair across from him, but Kylie declined with a simple shake of his head. "What's up? I didn't expect you to fly here."

"You weren't answering the messages that I wrote in the journal." Kylie shrugged, his gaze never leaving Harry.

Harry's eyes instinctively moved over to his wooden desk on the other side of the room, to the top drawer therein. Inside, blocked and protected by magic was the leather-bound journal Kylie spoke of, the charmed piece of stationary that allowed them to communicate anywhere on the earth. "Sorry, I fell asleep." He answered, giving a small smile.

"I bet." Kylie responded, nodding his head, seeing the bags under the wizard's eyes. The man was normally stout and powerful, but now, now he looked tired and worn-out. "So, what are we going to do now?" Kylie inquired, asking the question the rest of the Order was thinking to themselves, but wouldn't dare ask.

Harry bit his lip in thought, then, sighing, he said, "I don't know. I just don't know anymore." His answer, which was so frank and honest, seemed to placate Kylie as he gave a small smile, knowing that Harry would figure it out once he got over his grief.

"It was like a party at the meeting." Kylie whispered, as he turned towards the window, preparing to leave. "And, the worst part is, I think Bellatrix is alive and back with the Death Eaters. There was someone in between Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, with his or her hood up, hidden from the rest of the Death Eaters. I think it was her."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the mention of Bellatrix returning. "It doesn't matter," He said, quietly, shrugging. "She took Cedric's hand, I took her magic. I am impressed, however, if that was her, that she's still alive."

"What curse did you use? I heard her screaming when Rodolphus apparated in with her; it was excruciatingly painful to my ears." Kylie questioned, though he knew he wouldn't get an answer. Then, waving goodbye, he jumped out of the window, turning into a bird as he fell, and flew away into the clouds.

Wizards and witches poured into Hogsmeade a day later, preparing to pay their last respects to Dumbledore. A delegation of Ministry officials, including the Minster of Magic herself, arrived at Hogwarts earlier than the rest, making sure the premise was safe, away from harm. Meanwhile, Harry and the Order were sitting in the Great Hall, breakfast was being served but no one was very hungry. Everyone, even the children at the long house tables, was wearing their dress robes; dark and somber they were, diverging from their normal extravagant appearance. At the stroke of noon, the large group, those that were attending the funeral, headed down to the lawn, where an area full of seats was situated.

A powder blue carriage the size of a house swooped over the grounds of Hogwarts, landing near the edge of the forest. The door of the carriage swung open, and a gigantic olive-skinned and black haired woman stepped out, descended the steps of the carriage, and threw herself into the waiting arms of Hagrid. Hand in hand, the two half giants strolled over to the white chairs that were waiting for them, taking up two and a half seats each that were in the back.

An aisle ran down the center of the chairs: there was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. Half of the chairs had already been settled into by an extraordinary assortment of people; shabby and smart, old and young. Some Harry did not recognize, but most he did; Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron in London; Arabella Figg, Harry's former neighbor who happened to be a squib; Ernie Prang, the driver of the Knight Bus; Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley; and the plump witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially on the gleaming air.

The beautiful weather seemed to mock them. It was uncharacteristically warm for an early December day, and the sun blazed down onto the lawn and reflected off of the lake. People were whispering amongst themselves, it sounded like a soft breeze. Then, abruptly, the most beautiful and sorrowful sound erupted around the whole of Hogwarts; a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before, a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt it, as he had felt the Phoenix song before, the music that was inside of him, rushing up from deep within and turning his own grief into music. Everyone stopped what they were doing, no one knew for how long, just listening, most of them with their eyes closed; before long, however, the ceremony had commenced, the phoenix song still playing around the grounds.

Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. His face was brimming with tears as Dumbledore, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was in his arms. Hagrid placed the body carefully on the table, gently lying Dumbledore down, still covered by the velvet cloth, before retreating down the aisle, rejoining Madame Maxime in the back. For a second, everybody was silent, quiet; even nature around them seemed to hush, as bird, beast, or wind didn't make a sound. Declan Tennyson, Head of the Magical Documentation Office, the warlock who oversaw Harry and Tonks' wedding, got to his feet and stood in front of Dumbledore's body. He was wearing plain black robes, and his voice was magnified tenfold as he spoke; even still, Harry, from the front of the rows, could only hear a few words. "Nobility of spirit"…"Intellectual contribution"…"Greatness of heart"…it did not mean much. He knew the real Dumbledore; he had spoken to him everyday, personally, for the past ten years.

There was a soft splashing noise to his left, and he saw the merpeople had broken surface to listen too. Dumbledore had always been good to the merrows living in Hogwarts lake, relating to them and conversing with them in their own language; a practice almost unheard of in modern day wizarding world, with most people seeing the merrows as lesser beings. Even Harry, with all his knowledge, all his know-how, didn't even know mermish; and he didn't even know where or when or how Dumbledore had learned it, either.

Harry noticed with squinting eyes that there was movement among the trees at the edge of the forest. The centaurs had come to pay their respects too. They did not move into the open, instead they stood there quite still, half hidden by the shadows, watching the wizards, as their bows hung loosely by their sides. Declan, by this time, had finished his speech, and he had resumed his seat on the other side of the aisle, directly across from Harry. Then several people screamed in shock, Harry not being one of them, as bright, white flames erupted around Dumbledore's body and the table it lay upon: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body from view.

Spiraling into the air was white smoke; it twisted into strange and incredible shapes. Behind the smoke, Harry thought he had seen a phoenix fly joyfully into the sky, soaring off into the distance, but he knew that could not be. And, a second later, the fire was gone, vanishing, and in its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested. Then, unexpectedly, a shower of arrows soared through the air, falling short of the crowd by a few feet. There were hundreds, a tribute from the Centaurs, enough to almost blot out the sun for a second, each one showing just how much respect Dumbledore had earned throughout his long life. When the last arrow hit the ground, a swell of truth swept over him, and, by the looks of it, the rest of the patrons that attended the funeral.

It was as if the cloud, the haze of disbelief that surrounded Albus Dumbledore's death had been cleared away, the sheet being pulled off. Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age, the most accomplished warlock in the world, was dead and gone, and now the country, the fighters against Voldemort, were finally understanding of the fact, and it terrified them. Dumbledore wouldn't be around for them to go to for guidance, for help; he wouldn't be there to count on, to come and save the day if they were in trouble. It was up to them now, to fight, to protect people, to win; and, in fact unbeknownst to the population, it was mostly up to Harry.

For the first time in Harry's life, he felt the crushing weight that was upon him. He alone knew of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and he alone would have to be the one to find and destroy them; the only problem was he had no idea where or what they were. Add that in with leading the Order, and he was quickly drowning in an ocean of work and responsibility, and he didn't know if he would be able to tread the water. Without Dumbledore there to guide him, he had no idea if he would be able to do it, and even with Tonks and all of his friends there for support, he felt so alone; he felt like that little boy that was locked in the cupboard before he went to Hogwarts, before he even knew of his heritage.

The merrows blowing their horns distracted him from his thoughts; then, as a group, both the merrows and centaurs left—the centaurs trotting deeper into the forest and the merrows diving deeper into the lake. The phoenix song, which had been playing continuously throughout the ceremony, winded down and then with one great burst it was over, Fawkes having left the school forever. Everyone in attendance rose from his or her seat at that point, all of them pulling out their wands and letting sparkles out into the sky. Forming a line, they all paid their respects to Dumbledore's tomb, dropping gifts in front of it, flowers next to it, or giving the top of it a caressing; after about twenty minutes, the line reached its end, and the ceremony, the funeral was over.

There was a reception back at the Headquarters for the Order, with food prepared by Dobby and Zeali. It wasn't a somber affair, as everyone couldn't help but laugh at stories they told and listened to. Elphias Doge and Dedalus Diggle had the most stories of all, having gone to school with Albus—ones from their childhood and early adulthood. With the war in the back recesses of their mind for the time being, the Order was able to celebrate the accomplishments of their leader, their teacher, and their friend, Albus Dumbledore.

The next day found Tonks sitting in the living room of her house, reading the Morning Prophet. She skimmed over the pages, not really paying attention to the writing as she took a sip of her tea, wondering where her husband had gone off to. He said he would be back in a few minutes, but it had been an hour and he had still yet to return. There was a flash of green flames in the floo-connected fireplace, and out shot a small package with a note on it. Tonks immediately jumped up, startled, then bent down to pick the package up, reading the note. It said:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_This is your inheritance from one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's will. He left you these contents, with the rest going to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_With regards,_

_Declan Tennyson_

_Head of the Magical Documentation Office_

She unwrapped the package, throwing the brown paper on the floor, being surprised at what was inside. It was a shrunken trunk, it seemed, brown and square. Though curious, she wasn't daring enough to un-shrunk it and see what was inside, so instead she put it on the coffee table, hoping she was patient enough to wait for Harry. It sat on the table for a few minutes, daring her to open it, before, being unable to take it, she turned and walked out of the room, planning on seeing what her good friend Gaetana was up to.

Not twenty minutes later, Harry walked out of his workshop and closed the bookcase behind him, hiding his secret room, and making his way towards the stairs; he heard voices coming from the living room so he strolled down, checking it out. Gaetana and Nymphadora were sitting on the couch, eating some biscuits and fruit, while Cedric was making a food out of himself, charming a statue to dance. They all let out a laugh when the statue fell apart, having been constructed poorly by Cedric's magic. "Harry!" Cedric said in-between gasps of laughter, turning his attention to his friend that was standing in a doorway wearing a smile. Nymphadora and Gaetana both turned, too, waving Harry into the room.

Harry obliged with a sigh, thinking about all the work he had to do, and especially the particular activities he was engaging in within his workshop all morning. He picked up a few grapes and a strawberry, while Cedric talked about something that was happening at the Ministry. He listened halfheartedly, nodding when he needed to, but then the miniature trunk that was sitting on the table caught his eye. "That arrived for you, Harry." Tonks said, softly, noticing where his gaze was. "It's…it's your inheritance from Albus."

"Really?" Harry questioned, a lump rising in his throat. Tonks gave a brief smile, and Harry picked the trunk up, studying it. Quickly reading the note that had arrived, Harry excused himself from the room and made his way up into his library.

Pulling on the book that would move the bookshelf, he entered his hidden room, ready to see what was inside the trunk. He put the trunk down on the floor in the middle of the room, and then swung his wand over it, expanding it to its natural size. He popped open the latches, and swung the top open, revealing a chamber, big enough to stand and walk around in. Then, climbing into the trunk, Harry jumped down into the trunk and landed on a soft-carpeted floor, only about ten feet deep.

The chamber was a comfortable room, laden with bookshelves, objects, and a chair: in front of the chair was a table, and on that table was a stone basin, a pensieve. The room was alight with torches that hung on the wall, burning with a green flame that was as bright as the green of his eyes. In each of the four corners were four marble-like pillars, with big words engraved in them, like crevices in the stone: Storge, Agape, Philia, and Eros. There was a mural of an Azkaban-like castle, a fortress, tall and made from black stone, across from the entrance on the other side of the room; it created shadows in the forefront of the picture, as the sky in the background magically flashed with lightning. On the floor, the carpet was a mural too, showing five pyramids located in a desert, each one bigger than the last; they all looked to be made of rock, and were placed in a sea of gold sand.

He took a few more steps into the chamber, moving closer to the center table and the great stone basin that was on top of it. His eyes narrowed onto the writing that went around the opening of the pensieve; in loopy, archaic cursive, it read: The Chariot of Light. He cocked an eyebrow up in wonder, knowing that this wasn't the pensieve that Dumbledore usually used, the one that was located in his office before his death. This one looked ancient, maybe even older than the oldest books Harry had in his library, some of which were a thousand years old. As he reached down to touch the gray stone, the image of Dumbledore bubbled up in the silver liquid-like substance that was flowing in the basin, and rotated around. Then, miraculously, the image began to talk, as if he were real.

"If you are seeing this, Harry, then I have passed on into the next great adventure. I know what you must do, Harry, and believe me it will be no easy task. Therefore, to ease the process, I have left some information for you; though, I am not going to air out every one of my thoughts on the manner, as I don't want to taint your train of thought, to ruin the way you are thinking.

As we have already discussed, Tom's Horcruxes are most likely made out of trophies or trinkets that represent apparent greatness; the Founders' heirlooms, I imagine. Godric Gryffindor's heirloom, however, will not be one of them as I watched over his only relic each and every day while I was Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat. The locations of the Horcruxes will be places that mean something to him, that are of great importance in his mind. I know where two explicitly are: one of them is in a cave, in the North of England, on the seaboard—the note on the table will give you the exact locations. The other Horcrux is within his pet snake Nagini, so you'll need to destroy that piece of the soul before taking him on." There was a slight pause, as the Dumbledore imaged closed his eyes and smiled.

"I have faith in you, Harry. You will accomplish what must be done; you just have to have faith in yourself, in your abilities, in your knowledge, and most of all, in the people around you. You are loved, Harry Potter, remember that, and remember your love for those close to you, as well. Good-bye, my grandson."

And, quietly and somberly, the image of Dumbledore shrank back into the pensieve, before the silver substance disappeared, as if evaporating. Harry sighed after a moment, the grief that Dumbledore's death brought to him coming back tenfold. He would miss Albus everyday; miss the joy the man had for life. A tear escaped his left eye, rolling down his pale face, and dropping to the carpet. After a moment, he took a deep breath, regaining his composure, knowing there were things to do.

He moved around the room, running a hand down the binding of a few of the books and tomes, reading their titles. Some were ancient, very ancient, and some were dark, mostly about former Dark Lords and Horcruxes. There were journals, personal journals of Dumbledore, holding all of the information that the great wizard had accumulated over the years—all of the information that Albus had promised Harry. Then he moved over to the shelf that held some silver instruments and devices; there was a long, wooden object, a wand, wrapped in a purple cloth with a note tied to it.

_This is the Elder Wand, Harry. In my long life, it was the only Death Hallow I was fit to possess. I gained it during my fight against Grindelwald, its previous owner. I, however, lost its allegiance during my battle with Voldemort in the Ministry's atrium to Bellatrix Lestrange. Luckily enough she did not know of this, nor did she have the wand in her possession; you gained allegiance of____the wand when you beat Bellatrix in a duel, and now I grant you possession of an item that is rightfully yours. Take good care of it, and use it wisely. _

_-Albus_

Harry looked at the wand, star struck, unbelieving that this was actually the Elder Wand. He closed his eyes, trying to remember that duel with Voldemort, trying to remember what happened and how Dumbledore had lost the Deathstick's allegiance.The memory was vague, so much had happened since then, but still, he remembered it.

_Bellatrix Lestrange ran into the room, her violet eyes wide with either madness or surprise. Seeing Dumbledore, she raised her wand and released a great blast against the statue of the centaur that was perched in the fountain next to the aged wizard. The force, which was as close to her as it was Dumbledore, blew apart the centaur, and threw both Dumbledore and Bellatrix across the room, where they landed with a thud, both unconscious: his wand, like Harry's before, rolled out of his wrinkled hands._

At the time, he had no idea how important that disarming would be; how, with one duel, fate would be turned upside down. If Bellatrix had never disarmed Dumbledore, had never attacked the fountain like she did, possession of the wand would have never moved over to her, and, in turn, him. With that thought, he couldn't help but remember when Dumbledore showed him the wand during one of their many talks and conversations. It seemed so obvious in retrospect just what Dumbledore's intentions were, but Harry had not connected it, not knowing or even thinking about the possibility that Dumbledore had the Elder Wand.

"_I heard you beat Bellatrix Lestrange in a duel, is that right?" Dumbledore asked, his voice low. _

"_Yeah, I did." Harry nodded, taking pride in the fact that, though she wasn't caught, he beat a witch as powerful as Bellatrix. _

"_Good, good." Dumbledore smiled: it was big, and almost unnatural when put in context about what they were talking about. Oddly, there seemed to be a gleam of triumph in his sparkling blue eyes—it gave Harry an eerie sensation. Then, reaching into his robes, he took out a dark, black piece of wood: a wand. He placed it down on his desk in front of him, gesturing to Harry. Harry studied it, immediately recognizing it for the wand that Dumbledore had used after Harry had borrowed his in the Ministry's atrium. "Remember this wand, Harry." Dumbledore whispered, scooping the wand up and putting it back into his robes._

Harry shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts; there was a lot to take in. One line in the note made an impact on him the most, however: possession of an item that is rightfully yours. The Elder Wand was Antioch Peverell's, who happened to be Dumbledore's ancestor; if anyone had a claim to such a wand, it could not be more so than Albus Dumbledore. Shaking his head, he took the purple cloth off of the wand, allowing the wood to touch his skin for the first time. Immediately, he felt the rush of power, feeling the Elder Wand bonding with him; green and gold sparks flew out of its tip and into the air. He knew he wouldn't openly use this wand in battle, knowing the dangers it risked, but it was comforting, somewhat, to know that he had it, that he was in control of it, rather than someone else. When the sparks died down, he pocketed the wand; his stomach gave out a growl and he swept a last look around the chamber, seeing if there was anything else that he needed right away before leaving.

Next to the ladder that would allow Harry to exit, there was a shelf with a plate on it. On that plate rested a golden ring with a black stone in its core: the Ring of Resurrection, and a former Horcrux of Voldemort's. He picked it up, and carefully put it in his pocket, intent on keeping it on his workbench, right next to the Elder Wand. As he moved to leave the chamber, it struck him: he was in control of all of the Deathly Hallows.


	27. Burned in More Ways than One

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Hey everyone, sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I've just been real busy with my second draft of my novel that I didn't get around to this story all that much. I'm not forgetting about it or abandoning it so don't you worry, once August comes around I'll be writing every day. I hope you do enjoy this chapter, though.

S/N 2: This is the chapter that is the calm before the storm; I start dropping hints in this chapter about this story's future. Harry will be going on a "treasure" hunt next chapter, so be ready for that.

Chapter 27: Burned in More Ways than One

It had been five days since Albus Dumbledore's funeral, and the fate of Hogwarts had been decided in that span. After a unanimous decision between the Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and the Governors of Hogwarts, the school had been closed down for an early holiday break. It would reopen once the holiday season had finished, just after the wards had been reinforced and a new Transfiguration teacher had been hired. Some pureblooded parents had taken their children out of the school for protection, but most halfbloods and muggleborns were eager for the school to open back up, knowing that it was the safest place for them to be.

Meanwhile, the lull of fighting that had overcome the wizarding world after the great wizard's death had ended. Voldemort had begun to up his attacks on pureblood families that refused to join him lately, with the destruction of a few manor houses throughout the United Kingdom. Just as it had during the last war, the wizarding world was becoming disarrayed, with fear and panic running rampant. People started to take precautions by going to the extremes to protect themselves rather than relying on the Ministry, losing faith in their own safety; Voldemort seemed to be gaining even more power by the day in their eyes. The Order, meanwhile, was fighting the Death Eaters whenever they could, spreading themselves out to dangerous levels just to meet the dark wizards in battle.

During that time, Harry had been slaving over his research, trying to find out where and what Voldermort's Horcruxes were. Taking on both the research and the head of the Order was tiring, and Harry was beginning to feel the stress that was accumulating. He would barely get anymore than an hour of sleep at nights, and he always seemed moody for some reason, as if his cheerfulness was being sucked out of him, with solemnity taking its place. More and more often, he'd have to take a break from something to take a deep breath, trying to ease his anger and tiredness.

"What are we going to do, Harry? What can we do?" Roger questioned the man about the attacks; his back was turned to the group, which consisted of Sirius, Remus, Nymphadora, Hermione, Roger, and Viktor. They all stared at him as they waited for his answer, wondering what his plan would be, wondering if he had the solution to their problem.

"I don't know." Harry admitted, not knowing how to further protect the good and decent purebloods that were being brutalized by the Death Eaters just for not giving into the Dark Lord. Everything the Order did seemed to be overcome by Voldemort, as if he was prepared for everything they could throw at him.

"What do you mean you don't know? You have to know, you have to have some ideas, you're the one who's leading the Order. If you don't decide what the Order is going to do, then the Order is forced to sit and watch as atrocities happen all over the country." Remus chastised, hoping to get Harry back on track; the man was constantly second guessing himself now, his mind clearly distracted.

"I AM NO ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!" Harry screamed out, whipping around to face the group. Then, flicking his eyes to the ground, he slumped his shoulders and said, "I…can't do this. I'm not ready for this." His mind was clouded with plans and concerns, as ideas and thoughts churned in his brain, muddling his decision making process. He was worried about making a mistake, as having his attention being split in half between the Order and the Horcruxes was preventing him from learning all he could about a situation before acting; he didn't want blood on his hands for his ignorance and lack of forethought.

Sirius, from Harry's side, looked up at the wizard; his brow was raised. "You're young, yes." He scowled, pushing Harry a bit, though not enough to move him. "But you are the best wizard we have, and the person who inherited the light's throne from Dumbledore. Stop second guessing yourself, stop over thinking things, and just do what you're good at."

They all left, Nymphadora giving Harry a kiss on the cheek, leaving him alone in the room for a few minutes. The man sighed and took a seat in one of the chairs off to the side, closing his eyes for a second of peace and quiet. He didn't hear his friend Kylie come into the room, however, and was startled by the man's voice. "Harry, are you okay? You look tired." Kylie questioned, seeing the haggard state the wizard was in; he had bags under his eyes, and he was a little pale. "You've been awfully busy lately, let me help you. I can, and maybe I should, stop being a spy and help you out with the Order full time." Kylie offered, looking over at Harry with a questioning glance.

"No," Harry shook his head, adamantly. "We need you as a spy; you help us out more in that position. Did Nymphie ask you to do this? I saw you two talking to one another last night after dinner. Or was it Sirius as he passed you on his way out of here?"

"Well, Harry," Kylie chided, a little angrily. "You need help; and the kind of help that you need can only be done by a wizard like me. Snape, Sirius, and Cedric are just as busy as I am so they couldn't help you, Remus is still trying to recruit the werewolves, and we need Shacklebolt in the Ministry: we're out of people. And no body asked me to talk to you, I decided to ask you on my own. So what are you going to do then, we both know you need someone. Even Dumbledore needed someone, Harry."

Again Harry sighed, running a hand over his forehead, feeling as if he was having the same conversation as the one he had before. "I know, " Then, suddenly, he looked up, smiling at the thought that he was struck with, new energy seemingly entering his body and giving him strength. The thought was the name of someone who would be able to help him, his friend and McGonagall's nephew. "Herald." He muttered, earning a quirk of the brow from Kylie.

Later that night, Harry rolled over in his sleep, the room darkened and quiet. He moaned slightly, his chest rising and falling in a synchronized motion, and his eyes were moving in their sockets as he dreamed. The moonlight crept into the room through the curtains, alighting the place in an eerie, yet somewhat beautiful silver glow. Suddenly, the door swung open loudly, and Nymphadora came rushing in. "Harry," She said upon reaching the bed; she leaned down and shook her husband awake. "Get up!"

Harry's eyes shot open, and he instinctively reached for his wand that was sitting on the nightstand to his left. "What?" He questioned, worriedly, as he jumped to his feet, wand in hand. It had become habit over the months to be ready for battle at all hours of the night, knowing that Voldemort and his Death Eaters rarely slept.

"It's Lilyre, he's being attacked." Nymphadora puffed out through her breaths; she had run all the way up from the dirt road entrance to the house. "Aurors and Hit Wizards have already been dispatched, I came home to get you for help."

Harry growled, quickly threw on some clothes and hurried out of the door. Running to the apparation point that only he and Tonks knew about, he disapparated to Lilyre's house without a sound. Nymphadora followed him closely, apparating out a second after he did; a nervous look was upon her face as she left, as if she felt something dark and ominous coming. The sight they saw when the pair got there surprised them both.

Lilyre's house, which was his family's ancestral home, was halfway destroyed and fires of intense heat were burning out of the roof, alighting the snowy ground below. A group of wizards were engaging one another on the grass near the house; Lilyre was desperately throwing killing curses at the black-cloaked Death Eaters, trying to get revenge upon those who attacked him, while the Aurors were trying to subdue the dark wizards that outnumbered them. Harry and Tonks jumped into the fray right away, taking out a Death Eater as they moved towards Lilyre's position.

"Potter's here!" A Death Eater screamed out into the night from under his cloak and mask. All of the Death Eater's turned his way, looking at him for a second before turning his or her attention back to who they were dueling. Surprisingly, two wizards ran his way with their wands out, prepared for battle.

With a burst of purple energy, a curse shot out right at Harry, forcing the wizard to put up a shield to protect himself. "What the…?" Harry whispered to himself, recognizing the powerful magic. Knowing there were very few Death Eaters who knew and could perform that magic, he guessed the two coming at him were Quirrell and Crouch; the only other Death Eater he knew who was that powerful was Bellatrix Lestrange, but she had yet to show her face to the public since their last duel. The two Death Eaters bombarded him with spells right away, trying to overpower his defenses; they both were wearing metal masks, a derivative of the bone masks that the lower Death Eaters wore.

He ducked under a blasting curse, and sent a spell of his own at them; it created a gust of dirt that shot up into their eyes, blinding them for just a second. The Death Eaters countered with two killing curses, forcing Harry to the ground and into the cold snow to protect himself. Then, horrified, Harry saw the path the two curses were on: straight at Tonks' back. With a swish of his wand, Tonks' legs were pulled out from under her and she fell as a result, her face landing in the snow just like Harry's. The curses passed safely over her and Harry sighed audibly, his face gaining the color back that he had lost in worry. Quickly, he hopped back to his feet, sending a stunner at the Death Eaters in the process, and then he banished a boulder at them; they dodged both with a roll, one of them losing their wand in the process.

He flicked his wand to the left, extinguishing the flames that were engulfing a tree, not wanting it to cause any more damage. He dodged another archaic curse that was sent by one of the Death Eaters, as the other one bent down to pick up his wand. He swished his wand grandly, and sent a blast that was like the wind at them, knocking the pair to the ground. One Death Eater he was fighting, he noticed, was a pushover, the other one mainly supplying all of the powerful and ancient spells. The strong Death Eater was by no means on any level close to Harry, or even Sirius or Remus or Kylie, but he was still pretty good; clearly a top notch wizard under normal circumstances. The other Death Eater it would seem was just there for backup; the kind of wizard that followed Draco Malfoy or another type like that.

Both Death Eaters jumped back to their feet, releasing a Cruciatus curse in anger. Harry dodged them both, throwing up some meager defenses as he scattered about on the ground. "Expulso!" Harry yelled out, blowing up the small tree that he had just extinguished the flames on; one of the limbs collapsed upon one of the Death Eaters, trapping him under it, while the other one maneuvered around the pieces of wood that littered the ground.

Just as the Death Eater pushed the tree limb off of him and began to get back to his feet, a killing curse that had come from another duel and had ricocheted off of a boulder came whizzing out of nowhere, towards the dark wizard. As if it was his fate, the green light hit the less powerful Death Eater in the chest, killing him instantly. His body fell to the ground, limp and unmoving. For a second the other Death Eater looked down at his comrade's body, and Harry could have sworn he heard a gasp then a sigh as if the Death Eater's demise had meant something to him, as if in a group of dark wizards bent on world domination, the two had been friends.

Then, turning his attention back to the duel, the wizard raised his wand arm. "Legilimens!" The Death Eater screamed, pointing his wand straight at Harry's face, using the mind-reading spell as an attack. Immediately, Harry felt a blast of energy collide against his mental shields. He smiled a little, knowing that he would easily over power the Death Eater, having been taught Occlumency from Dumbledore himself, and force the dark wizard out of his mind. A second later he did just that, and as a result, the Death Eater stumbled.

"My turn!" Harry said, pointing his own black wand at the Death Eater's head. The Death Eater's measly mental shields crumbled easily, and memories flooded into Harry's consciousness. _Stephen Cornfoot_, Harry thought to himself as the man's identity became known, surprised by who the Death Eater was. He had gone to Hogwarts with the man and had somewhat of a rivalry with him—Stephen always tried to outdo both Harry and Hermione when it came to grades and school accolades such as Prefect and Headboy.

As Harry ended the connection with Stephen's memories, members of the Order came to the battle, arriving with pops and swirls of cloaks; there were five of them total. They immediately entered the fray, dueling whatever Death Eaters they could, most of them taking a Death Eater off of an Auror's hands. Hermione went towards Nymphadora, and the two ladies fought back-to-back with one another, protecting each other's blind sides. Three Death Eaters circled around them, hoping to defeat them by overpowering the ladies.

Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, ran the other way, attacking a Death Eater who had just killed a Hit Wizard; the seven Hit Wizards that were on duty that night, Harry not being one of them, had arrived with the Aurors. The Death Eater turned his way, throwing up a shield charm to block the stunner that Neville had sent. Then, with a twirl of his wand, the Death Eater sent out a blasting hex that Neville defended against swiftly, throwing another stunner the Death Eater's way in response.

The Death Eater was a tall and lumbering fellow, and wore a bony mask over his face. His hood had fallen down during his duel with the Hit Wizard before, giving Neville a clear view of his dark blond hair that was matted down to his head in a mix of sweat and melted snow. With his hulking stature, the tallest one fighting on either side, a few inches taller than Harry who was the second tallest person there, Neville thought he recognized the Death Eater, but couldn't be sure with the mask obscuring the wizard's identity. As he was pondering that fact, however, the Death Eater sent a curse straight at Neville that hit him in the shoulder, gashing it open with crunching force.

Neville fell to the ground, his wand flying nearly twenty feet away from him, out of reach without magical assistance. The Death Eater, who revealed himself as Thorfinn Rowle as he took off his mask, inched closer to his downed opponent, a vicious smirk forming on his now mask-less face. "It's a shame that pure blood such as yours, Longbottom, has to be spilt." Rowle mocked, as he lifted his wand to give the killing curse with no hesitation. "But, then again, your blood would just create weaklings, and that's something we don't want."

Then, from out of the darkness, came another Death Eater, who raised his wand tip to Rowle's back; the tip was alight with blue energy, and the energy crackled like lightning. The Death Eater jabbed his taser-like wand into Rowle's back, and the man hollered as he arched his back in pain, his eyes rolling back into their sockets. Electricity began to wash over him in waves, and his body started to convulse; the Death Eater only let up his attack as Rowle went limp and unconscious, allowing the brute to fall to the ground.

Neville finally saw just who it was that saved him. His eyes bulged when he recognized it to be Rabastan Lestrange, who saved him yet again: the man had saved Neville once before, when Gibbon had sent that killing curse at him just a month ago. "Why?" He asked up at the Death Eater, who had placed his mask back upon his face and pulled his hood over his head, preventing anyone else, Death Eater and Order member alike, from knowing his identity.

Instead of answering, Rabastan swished his wand and summoned Neville's wand to the younger man, and then disapparated without saying a word. Neville rose to his feet, his mind racing, and he looked down at Rowle's body, not knowing if the man was dead or alive. He looked pretty dead as his body had yet to move since falling to the ground, but it was too dark—even with the flames that were burning the house down—to see if his chest was rising up and down as a sign of breathing. Worrying about it later, Neville gripped his wand and rushed back into battle, throwing a stunner at a Death Eater's back.

The battled carried on for another ten minutes, bodies going down by stunners, blasting hexes, and killing curses. A curse had been thrown into the flames from a Death Eater, and after a second of silence that enveloped the whole area, there was an explosion as if a bomb had gone off; flames erupted high into the air, and embers flew across the property, landing on the ground and melting the snow. Upon noticing their numbers diminishing, a Death Eater, presumably the leader of the raid, threw his wand tip into the air and released a flash of orange-yellow energy that illuminated the air above him. He then disapparated away, the other Death Eaters following right after him, some of them releasing final curses and laughter as they went. Then, emerging from the shadows that lined the long street that wound its way up to the property, a cloud of black-cloaked beings came flying towards them.

The Dementors descended down upon the group comprised of Aurors, Hit Wizards, and Order Members; an eerie chill had floated over the wizards and witches as darkness began to consume the area. Harry, leading the fray, raised his wand quickly, thinking about the happiest moments of his life, all of them being based around Nymphadora, and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" A silver stag shot out of his wand tip and created a barrier that defended the group from the fowl beasts, preventing utter despair from gripping their hearts and minds. It chased the cloak-like monsters around, pushing them farther and farther away, their chill and darkness being repelled. The Dementors tried to fight it, but after a minute of struggling torture they flew away into the darkened night, retreating just like the Death Eaters had done.

Hermione watched as the Dementors left, then as they passed by the surrounding lands, she squinted her eyes to the shadows under a tree, where the outline of an old man appeared. "Harry," She said, quietly, elbowing him to get his attention. "Who is that?" She questioned, pointing her finger at the man. She gripped her wand tightly, preparing herself for another battle.

Harry's gaze shifted over to the man as well; he was old, with long gray hair that was partially covered by a gray and shadowy hood, though it wasn't reminiscent to Death Eater attire. The man didn't say anything, instead he turned and apparated away, leaving the area with a soft, almost inaudible pop. Harry raised an eyebrow but shrugged to Hermione, and headed over to where a Death Eater's body laid; the Death Eater he was dueling that died.

As he reached the body, he bent down on one knee and removed the metal mask, revealing the wizard's identity. It was Zacharias Smith, Stephen Cornfoot's best friend. Zacharias was one of the last descendants of Helga Hufflepuff, and he was, incidentally, the grandnephew of Hepzibah Smith, the woman Voldemort had stolen Hufflepuff's cup from. His face was pale and cold, his brown eyes still open in surprise. Harry ran a hand over them, closing them and giving the body the respect that death deserved. He looked up as he heard someone walking towards him, and gave a small smile to his wife as their eyes made contact.

Nymphadora walked over to him, and as she did she bit her lip, a small frown taking its place on her beautiful, heart-shaped face. "Lilyre's over there," Tonks said, gesturing to an area that was clear of debris. "You should go talk to him. He looks pretty bad."

Harry nodded, silently agreeing, and made his way over to the wizard; Lilyre was standing alone, his eyes staring fixedly at the destruction that was spread about the land. His home was completely burned to the ground and was nothing but rubble, and the property around the house was scorched and incinerated. The trees that were alit with flame were nothing but ash that blew in the wind. The ground was muddy and swamp-like, as the fire had melted most of the snow.

The Ministry's Obliviators had just begun to arrive, and they immediately spread out around the property and down the street, erasing the memories of whatever muggle they thought could have seen something. Noticing them, Harry hurried his pace, coming up behind the man. "Come with me, Lilyre, we'll talk." Harry whispered, gripping the man's elbow.

"We can talk here." Scowled an angry Lilyre, his eyes never leaving the burning rubble that was his house. His sorrow, hatred, and rage were almost palpable, and Harry feared that it would consume his friend entirely.

"No, we can't." Harry replied, his eyes shifting around the area. "You were throwing Unforgiveables; the Aurors will take you to Azkaban, no matter if you were fighting off Death Eaters. If we leave now to my home, Nymphadora will smooth things over and you won't even get a slap on the wrist. Come on." Harry gripped his arm, and upon seeing the slight nod of Lilyre's head, apparated them both away, arriving in front of the metal gate that guarded Harry's property.

Harry opened the gate by touching the hoof of the stag statue that was on the side, and they quietly made their way up to the house, trenching up the cobblestone path that Zeali had cleared the snow off of. "Where's Wayne?" Harry asked about Wayne Hopkins, Lilyre's best friend. As they entered the front door of the warm home, the scent of burning wood wafted through the air, hitting them with its wonderful aroma.

"He's fine." Lilyre muttered, his eyes to the ground as he followed Harry into the living room; a great big orange fire was dancing in the fireplace, creating dark shadows that danced upon the walls around the room. "He's up in the highlands with the Spungens."

Harry nodded, accepting that answer. As a member of the Order, he knew Wayne would be hearing about the attack any second now, and Harry wouldn't be surprised if he came rushing back to make sure Lilyre was okay. "How are you?" He questioned, scanning Lilyre's form; he had a few scratches and bruises, but was other wise healthy.

"My family was just murdered in front of my eyes, how do you think I am?" Lilyre snapped, falling down into the couch. Then, sighing, he rubbed his eyes and said, "I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that." He apologized, though there was something in his voice that told Harry that it wasn't completely honest, that his apology meant nothing and that it was hiding something bigger.

"Don't worry about it, it's understandable." Silence loomed for a moment or two, Harry using the time to ponder how he should go about what he was about to say. Deciding on a plan of honesty, Harry opened his mouth and said, "I want you to join the Order of the Phoenix, Lilyre. I want you to help us fight off the Death Eaters."

"Okay," Lilyre nodded, dumbly, and Harry got the feeling that the man was just saying yes to say yes, rather than really understanding the request. He ran a hand through his hair; it was wet, and snow was scattered in it still. His robes were dirty and torn, having lost the glisten of perfection that they once had. A gash ran across his leg, and blood was accumulating on his pants, dripping slowly onto the floor.

"Zeali!" Harry said quickly, and his loyal house elf appeared a second later with a pop. "Can you get some clothes out of my closet for Lilyre, and prepare the shower and some food for him?" The elf smiled and nodded, then bowed and apparated away, leaving his master. "Take a shower, clean up, get something to eat, and then we'll talk more about the Order, okay? A room in my house is yours for how ever long you want it and need it." Lilyre didn't say anything, but Harry could tell he understood. After saying his goodbyes, Harry flooed to Grimmauld place, needing to retrieve the piece of paper that would allow Lilyre access to the headquarters.

Harry strode into the first floor sitting room, where Sirius, Remus, and the Tonks' were sitting, having a late night tea. Over the past few months, with Andromeda and Ted living in Grimmauld Place, Sirius and Andromeda had gotten to renew their friendship and relationship, both seemingly loving one another like cousins should. He gave them all a wave, and walked over to Regulus' portrait, saying, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

With an odd squeak, the picture sprung open, revealing a cubby-like safe that was around four feet deep. There was a small plastic box in the center, and he grabbed it, lifting the cover up to reveal a few pieces of small, folded up paper. He grabbed one of them, putting the box back into the safe and locking it back up. Then, quietly, he said, "Lilyre Moon was attacked tonight, most of his family was killed."

Remus and the rest reared back in shock, having not expected that. "Is Lilyre okay?" The werewolf questioned, knowing the pair's friendship.

"Physically, yeah." Harry nodded, walking over to the door, where he stopped and turned towards the group. "He's at my house right now, and I'm inducting him into the Order. If I don't, I'm afraid he's going to go and try to fight every Death Eater out there and get himself killed."

"Does he need something?" Sirius offered, wondering what he could do to help. "A place to stay, maybe?"

"No," Harry shook his head, waving his godfather off. "I have more than enough room at my house." He gave them a small smile. "I'll see you all tomorrow." With a wave he left, flooing back home.

A half an hour later, Lilyre lumbered down into the kitchen, where Harry and Tonks were sitting, drinking a cup of tea and eating a late night snack; neither would be able to sleep very much that night. His hair was still damp, and Harry's clothes were a little too big—though they still fit him. He gave them both a nod as he took a seat, pouring himself a glass of milk from the pitcher that Zeali had put in the middle of the table.

"How are you feeling, Lilyre?" Tonks asked, stirring her tea with a spoon absentmindedly. "I'm sorry for your loss; I just wish we could have gotten there sooner."

"Yeah," Lilyre replied, quietly, not saying anything else. He took a sip of his milk, wiping his mouth with a napkin after putting his glass down.

"Well, I know this doesn't make up for what you lost, but Voldemort lost six Death Eaters tonight: one of them, Zacharias Smith, we found dead; three were stunned; one was bleeding out onto the ground, left for dead by the others; and finally, the biggest catch of the night, Thorfinn Rowle was so badly electrocuted that he couldn't even string together a complete sentence." Nymphadora relayed, shivering at the thought of Rowle's decrepit body slightly. Death and destruction was not something that she liked, and in these dark times it seemed like that was all that was around. If it wasn't for Harry and the time they spent together alone in their home, she didn't know if she would have the strength to keep on going.

"Zacharias Smith?" Lilyre grunted, laughingly. "I always thought he'd become a Death Eater." He sneered, remembering how arrogant and pompous the man was about his blood purity.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, silently agreeing with that statement. Sure, initially he was shocked, but after decompressing and thinking it over, he couldn't help but see that Zacharias being a Death Eater was the most obvious thing in the world: the guy thought his pureblood, that dated back to one of the founders, was a reason to exalt and worship him. He shook his head briefly, getting those thoughts out of his mind, knowing that there were topics of great importance to discuss. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper that had Sirius' writing on it, put it on the table and pushed it towards Lilyre. "Remember that address. Once you do, you'll officially be in the Order of the Phoenix."

The other wizard looked down at the note, reading and remembering it. "Yeah, about that…WHY DIDN'T YOU ASK ME TO JOIN THE ORDER BEFORE ALL OF THIS? I'm just as good of a wizard as most of the people in it." Lilyre spat angrily, his eyes filled with nothing but rage as he stared at Harry. The blood in his body rushed upwards, tinting his neck and face a bright shade of red. "Am I not your friend? Did you not trust me?"

Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping as he looked over at his house elf—Zeali had screeched at the loudness of Lilyre's voice, clearly startled and a little scared. "I didn't ask you because you were helping our cause more by not being here than you would be able to help if you were here. We have spies within the ranks of Voldemort, Lilyre, and by you not being here, it makes people question if that spy was you, taking heat off of whom the spies really are. I'm sorry, my friend, but I made the choice to basically use you, knowing that it would help us out more."

"What about Wayne?" Lilyre questioned, still angry but understanding of the situation. In these dark times, desperate measures had to be taken to protect the greater good. Sure, he lost some trust with Harry, but he still considered the wizard his friend; their relationship would go back to normal when the Dark Lord was dead and gone. "Why didn't he get to join the Order?"

Harry bit his lip, nervously. What he was about to say could severely anger Lilyre, and he didn't want to have to fight with his friend; he knew some tact would be needed. "Wayne is in the Order. He joined with Tynan Davis a little over a month ago. The reason why he joined so late, however, was for same reason you didn't before now, Lilyre." Harry answered honestly. "It kept open the possibilities that one of you was the spy, protecting the real one. "

"Wayne's a halfblood, though, he would never be able to be a Death Eater." Lilyre cocked an eyebrow, almost disbelieving of Harry's story, trying to find a flaw in it. Then, shaking his head, he said, "Tynan Davis? Seriously?"

"Ha," Harry laughed, and snidely added, "There are a lot more halfbloods in the ranks of the Death Eaters than people know, Lilyre. Voldemort himself is only a halfblood." A surprised gasp was heard from Lilyre; his eyes went wide with shock at Harry's proclamation, making a small smile cross Harry's face.

Meanwhile, in the stone room that served as Voldemort's meeting place, the Dark Lord was sneering down at one of his Death Eaters. His wand twirled in his long, spider-like fingers, almost mockingly. "You failed me yet again, Draco." Voldemort scathed down to the bowing Malfoy; Death Eaters were circled around them, watching with bemused looks upon their faces—Draco Malfoy was not well liked within their circles.

"What to do, what to do." Voldemort muttered, his left hand reaching up and scratching his chin, casually. Draco's eyes darted around the room, moving from the Dark Lord to the exit that was on the other side; the door was opened just a little, allowing a thin stream of light to enter. His body was shaking in fear, though he would not admit how truly terrified he was.

"So, as we all know, the Moons were attacked last night." Harry murmured as the Order meeting came to a start, his eyes were planted on the wooden table that was in front of him. "I have invited Lilyre into our fold, and he has accepted. Unfortunately, due to the events that transpired late last night, he is off taking care of the family matters that need to be taken care of so he will obviously not be coming today.

The Order discussed what happened to the Moons, and possible plans to qualm Voldemort's attacks. They decided to have Shacklebolt meet with Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Gawain Robards, the leader of the Magical Law Enforcement and Auror Squads, and Pius Thicknesse, the Head of the Hitwizard Squads, to discuss an action plan; it would have to be approved by Amelia Bones, the Minister of Magic, but between the four, an arrangement would be made that protected the greatest number of people possible. Then they moved onto discussing Hogwarts, with Minerva McGonagall filling in information about what was happening there to the members who hadn't heard yet. She was clearly overwhelmed, as she seemed aged and frazzled, but even so, she still held the appearance of being a strong, noble, and intelligent witch.

"Excuse me, sirs," Dobby said, hesitantly as he appeared in the room with a soft pop. He was wearing a large black sweater, with a knit hat and matching blue socks; all of which he had made on his own.

"Yes, what is it, Dobby?" Sirius asked, pleasantly, wondering what his loyal house elf wanted. Very rarely did Dobby ever appear in the basement when a meeting was going on, not wanting to get in the way; he usually came down after the meeting was over to serve food and drinks up.

"Dobby begs your forgiveness," The house elf began, thrusting his hands into his sweatshirt. "But a letter has come for master Barnaud from an owl!" Dobby snapped his fingers and the letter that was in his hand disappeared, reappearing on the table in front of Desperaux.

The French wizard looked down at the letter, not recognizing the handwriting. Noticing the stares, he cleared his throat, saying, "I'm sorry. I don't know who would have sent me a letter, the only people who would send me one, know not to for fear of it being tracked to here and disclosing our location."

"It's no problem, really," Harry answered, swishing his hand. "Death Eaters won't be able to find this place, ever. I've made sure of that."

Despereaux smiled and quietly opened up the envelope. Taking out the piece of parchment and creasing it open, his eyes quickly scrolled down to the bottom, seeing whose name was there. Surprisingly, it was his father, Rabastan Lestrange. Holding in the incredible amount of anger at the gall of the man that was threatening to overtake him, he read the short, two-line note.

_I am sorry. I want to talk._

"The wards didn't take a hit after Dumbledore died, did they?" Tynan Davis asked, curiously, interrupting Despereaux's reading. As he was the brother of Tracey Davis—Harry's girlfriend before he met Nymphadora—and a friend of Theodore Nott's, Harry had accepted Tynan's proposal to help and invited him into the Order; the pair was by no means friends but they did get along. The man mostly gathered information about the wizarding world in general, and rarely ever participated more than that.

"No," Harry replied, seemingly absentmindedly; inwardly, however, he was cocking an eyebrow. The meeting continued for another half an hour, the Order going over the plans for various missions that would be needed. Remus gave some more intel about the werewolf packs and their decisions on what to do. Greyback had swayed some werewolves to Voldemort's side, but most of the rest of the packs had decided to stay neutral, not taking either's side. "Well, if that's all, this meeting is adjourned." Harry said, calling it to a close.

The members picked up their things, and began to make their up the stairs and out of the basement; only Harry, Cedric, Sirius, Hermione, and Bill Weasley were at the table, all not having moved. "You guys," Harry began, taking a look at the rest of the bunch. "You guys are the most powerful wizards and," He smiled at Hermione. "Witch, that I know. I need to take on another project of sorts these next few weeks, so I'm counting on you to help me out with the Order. Is that okay?"

They all nodded, with Sirius being the only one to mutter a "Yes, of course." They all rose and trekked up the stairs to meet up with the others that were waiting above them. Smalls groups were cluttered about the first floor, talking and laughing, sharing stories and jokes as they began to make their way home.

Off in the corner, Cedric, Viktor, Roger, Wayne, and the Weasley twins all stood in a circle on the other side of the room, conversing quietly amongst themselves. "If it's not Lilyre, then who is it?" Cedric whispered, his eyes slowly moving over to Kylie. The rest moved their vision over to the man, too, as they all stared at his back, wondering just who it was underneath that cloak. Cedric would have bet anything on it being Lilyre, and now that he knew it wasn't, he had no idea who it could have been; a thought that made a shiver run down his spine. If there was one thing Kylie was good at it was covering his tracks, which made Cedric hope that Harry knew what he was doing.

"I know who you are." Snape muttered, lowly, walking past the man that the group was just talking about. "Using your mother's maiden name as a code name was clever, kept me from finding out the truth for all of this time. You were good enough to make me think that you were a first generation Death Eater, one from the old war, but you're not…I was your teacher for seven years, do you really think I wouldn't figure it out sooner or later?"

Kylie stopped walking, but didn't turn around to face Snape. "So, what of it?" The silky Death Eater gave a smile and an ominous laugh, but said no more, instead walking away from Kylie, leaving the wizard with a perplexed look on his shadowy face.

It was around nine o'clock that night that found Harry in his workroom, sitting at his workbench reading a note that Dumbledore had left him. It gave him instructions on the general area of where he thought the cave was, and by comparing it to a map, Harry was able to find the exact location. As he hovered above the parchment he was taking notes on, he heard a ringing in his ear, like a bell was going off in the distance. His hands shot up to his ears, covering them for a few seconds before he realized the sound was coming from the desk's top drawer, where the Deathly Hallows laid.

With one hand covering his ear, his other hand reached down and opened the drawer. The Elder Wand sat there in its purple cloth, vibrating violently. He tentatively reached down and picked up the black piece of wood, wanting to stop the ringing. Once the wand touched his skin, a burning sensation rippled over his left shoulder blade and the vibrating stopped. It felt as if something was being drawn into his back, like a tattoo artist would a muggle tattoo. After a few more seconds of burning, the feeling stopped just as the ringing had, leaving Harry utterly confused. He studied the wand; going over its every part with his eyes, before covering it back over with its cloth and placing it back into the drawer. With a small bang, he closed the drawer and left the room, all the while thinking about what just transpired.


	28. The Tiger, the Spy and the Cave

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I got a message from a reader asking me how to say Lilyre's and Despereaux's name, respectively. For Lilyre, its "Lil" sounding like Lily without the y, and then the Lyre sounds like "ear": Lil ear. Despereaux, on the other hand, is even easier to say—the Desper part sounds like "Desperate" with out the ate, and the Reaux sounds like "row" (as in row, row, row your boat). So put them together and its "Desper Row".

S/N 2: I got this chapter out quicker than I expected, so here you go! Be warned, though, there is a chapter coming soon devoted completely to Harry's relationships with his friends and family, based around Christmas, but the search for the Horcruxes and the twists in the plots will make it more than worth it. Oh, and I'm sorry, but I think this chapter's name is my most clever ever—you all should know what it mimics, right?

Chapter 28: The Tiger, the Spy, and the Cave

Early in the morning the next day, Harry wrapped his green cloak around him as he walked out of the front door of his home; the cold autumn air, for it was still a week until winter began, sent shivers down his spine. Snow hugged the ground, creating a wonderful blanket of powder that glistened in the morning sunlight. A slight chill rushed over him as he walked towards the gate, making his teeth chatter and his cheeks rosy. He began to rub his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm himself up. Reaching the gates, he walked out onto the snow covered dirt path, and with a countenance filled with resolve, he apparated out with the intention of having one of Voldemort's Horcruxes when he got back to his home.

Harry arrived on a large chunk of rock that protruded out of a towering cliff that stood behind him; the North Sea was looming below him. The chunk of rock looked as though it had broken away from the cliff face at some point in the past, whittled down by rain and erosion over the years. Harry moved to the very edge of the rock where a series of jagged crevices made footholds leading down to boulders that were semi-submerged in seawater, all of them closer to the cliff. It was a terrible descent that took a while as Harry was moving at half-pace, the lower rocks being slippery with seawater. Upon reaching the boulder closest to the cliff face, Harry saw a fissure in the cliff in which dark water swirled.

After studying the fissure for a second, Harry slid from the boulder and landed in the sea, beginning to swim immediately; his wand was in his mouth, held in place between his teeth. The water was cold and icy, much too cold, and his robes were starting to weigh him down as small waves crashed into him. Shivering, he turned into his tiger form with a small pop, hoping that his tiger's fur would be able to keep him warmer. It barely made a difference, but he stayed in the form as he moved deeper into the cliff. The fissure turned into a passageway that curved to the left and extended far into the cliff; the walls were three feet apart, and covered in a green slime.

He neared the end of the passageway and turned back into his human form, rising out of the water with his wand still in his mouth. He emerged into a small cave; he was shivering uncontrollably and his clothes were soaked. He took his wand from his mouth, gently touched his robes, and at once his clothes were as warm and dry as if they had been hanging in front of a crackling fire. He stood in the middle of the cave, his wand held high as he turned slowly on the spot, examining the walls and ceiling. "Yes," He muttered. "This is the place."

He moved towards the wall of the cave, caressing it as he muttered in an ancient tongue. Then he ran his other hand over the cave wall as well, feeling, sensing the magic that was around it. With his hand still on the rocky wall, he walked right around the cave, occasionally pausing over a particular spot, before stopping back at the place he had began. Stepping back, he pointed his wand at the rock and for a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing a blinding white color. The outline disappeared just as quickly as it appeared, and Harry stood quietly, staring at it as if something extremely interesting was written on it. "So crude." He mumbled two minutes later, almost disappointedly, as if Voldemort had fallen short of the standards Harry had expected.

He reached into the pocket of his cloak and took out a sharp, silver dagger. Dragging the dagger across his palm, he cut open a small gash in his hand, flicking his crimson blood onto the cave rock. The blazing white outline reappeared in the wall, but this time it didn't fade away, and with a great lurch, part of the wall moved, allowing a passageway that was barely big enough for a human into the cave. The cave was large, and housed a big lake inside: its dark water was as smooth as glass.

The lake was so vast that he could not make out the distant banks, and the ceiling was so high that it too was out of sight. In what seemed to be the center of the lake, a greenish light showed, reflecting off of the still water. The darkness that surrounded him seemed denser that normal, as the light from his wand didn't extend as far as it should have. With his wand tip alit, he followed the small path that ran against the wall around the lake, his footsteps echoing across the otherwise silent cave. It stopped after a hundred or so feet; Harry, for the rest time, saw the small inlet, barely bigger than a large kitchen table, directly in the center of the lake.

He waved his hands in the air, wondering what he would have to do and where he would have to go next. His hand closed in midair upon something invisible to the eye as he inched closer and closer to the water. Using his other hand, he raised his wand and tapped his clenched fist with its point; immediately, a copper green chain appeared, extending form the depths of the water into Harry's hand. Again he tapped his wand tip, this time on the chain itself, and it began to coil around on the ground, pulling up something from its blackened depths.

He gasped as he watched a small, wooden and green glowing boat break the surface, and then float, with barely a ripple, toward the place on the bank where he stood. The boat hit the bank with a gentle bump, giving Harry a chance to study it. It was barely big enough for one person, and had magic on it that prevented more than one person, one trained wizard to be on it. "He wants one wizard, and only one wizard to go over there…why?" Harry thought out loud, looking from the boat to the island and back again. "Accio!" He said, swishing his wand towards the center of the lake, where he presumed the Horcrux laid.

With a noise reminiscent of an explosion, something large and pale jumped out of the water some thirty feet away. With a crashing splash, it disappeared before Harry got a good chance to see what it was, but he did have a strong feeling about what it was exactly. Not wanting to risk it, he thought of a way for him to bring in help, knowing that two people would be needed for what it was he would have to do; after all, if that wasn't the case, then Voldemort wouldn't have gone to great lengths to prevent more than one wizard from getting onto the boat. Taking out his wand, he whipped it around, concentrating on a happy memory, and a silver stag erupted from its tip, glowing with a light akin to the full moon. The stag ran a few feet, then disappeared, leaving the cave as if it was never there.

Harry, after taking one last look around the cave, exited, going back out the way he came: he would wait for his help outside, and only use them if he absolutely needed it. He sat down on a rock a few feet away from the entrance, and looked out over the coastline, watching the waves of the ocean crash down. He loved watching the ocean, it relaxed him, calmed him, and he did it all the time at his own home. Nymphadora and him would sit on the beach, or even on the grass above the cliffs that ran perpendicular to his house, and just watch the waves crash for hours, sometimes even into the wee hours of the night.

He used this time to go over what he had learned already: Voldemort's protections were very difficult, and would only get more difficult from there on out. Finding the boat had not been easy, and the only reason why he did find it, in his mind, had been because he had studied Tom Riddle's Diary for so long, going over every charm, spell, and detail that was in and apart of it. Magic always left traces, sometimes very distinctive ones, and he knew Tom Riddle's magical work, his idiosyncrasies, his quirks better than anyone in the world, which made finding the boat a little easier. He just hoped he would have the skills and know-how to get through the rest of the cave in one piece.

With a pop, the Order of the Phoenix spy Kylie appeared on a boulder a few feet above Harry. Harry smiled at the wizard, knowing how early it was. "Thanks for coming, I hope you weren't busy or asleep or something."

"No, Queenie and I have been up for an hour; Tracey came by this morning, crying hysterically." Kylie answered, pulling his hood down and showing his face.

"Crying about what?" Harry questioned, as Kylie hopped from boulder to boulder until he reached Harry. Even though Harry loved Nymphadora with all his heart and soul, Tracey was an important part of his past and he still cared for her--even if she didn't want to see him--and was worried that something had happened to her.

Kylie gave a grim smile, his demeanor serious. "She saw Death Eaters outside of her father's house." That one basic fact, when in conjuncture with the pureblooded name connected to the family as Tracey's mother's maiden name was a pureblood one, could only mean two things: one of them being that the Death Eaters were going to attack, the other being the exact opposite.

"Really?" Harry replied, tilting his head slightly at Kylie curiously.

Nodding, Kylie replied, "Yeah…I think we're both thinking the same thing."

"Its probably time that we set up a trap." Harry mumbled, knowing that the leak in the Order would have to be fixed as soon as possible.

"Probably." Kylie nodded in agreement. "What are we doing here, anyway?" Kylie inquired, noticing his surroundings: it wasn't everyday that he was asked to come to a boulder near the ocean early in the morning.

"We are procuring an item of great importance to Voldemort that needs to be destroyed." Harry answered simply, not giving away much information. Then, smiling brightly, he said, "We're going to have to get wet." Putting his wand in his mouth, he dove into the chilly water, swimming into the crevice; Kylie followed right behind him.

They arrived in the cave alcove, rising out of the water wet and cold. They both dried themselves off with magic, and Harry went over to the wall again, using his knife to cut a small wound into his hand and splashing it over the rock. The archway glowed brightly and appeared as if out of nowhere, and Harry stepped into the cave, Kylie immediately behind him. "Have you ever seen Voldemort's snake, Nagini I think her name is, during the Death Eater meetings?" Harry questioned, quietly, as he walked along the path, slowly, making sure he didn't fall into the dark water. His wand was lit and held high into the air, but even so, it was not giving off much light, the darkness around them seemingly overpowering the spell.

"Yeah," Kylie answered, nodding his head. "She's always around his shoulders if she isn't slithering around, looking for something to eat."

Harry bit his lip, and gave a slight tilt of his head; his demeanor turned serious instantly just as Kylie's had minutes before. "There will be a time, not now, but perhaps soon, that I'm going to ask you to kill her." Kylie cocked an eyebrow at the request but said nothing, instead just replying with a simple and efficient yes. He knew Harry wouldn't have asked him to do it unless it was of the utmost importance. They reached the glowing boat soon after that, and still Kylie hadn't the slightest clue of what they were doing. "You feel that?" Harry questioned, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Feel what?" Kylie asked, confusedly, his eyes darting around the cave. The smell of seawater, decay, and magic that was in the air entered his nostrils, and he crinkled his nose a bit.

"Try changing into your animagus form." Harry replied, knowing the man wouldn't be able to.

Kylie did as he was told, and nothing happened; it was as if he wasn't an animagus, as if that part of him, his bird form, had been ripped away from him. Admittedly, he felt…incomplete, a revelation that surprised even him. "What the? How is this happening?"

"Honestly? I have no idea." Harry shrugged, ignorantly. "I think the spell starts once you enter the cave; it slowly drains your ability to turn into an animal away from you. In other words, you'd be able to turn into an animal right when you enter, but sooner or later you'll turn back into a human, and I imagine it would be at the most inopportune time—probably when you're flying over the water, therefore making you drown in it or be killed by those Inferi."

Kylie peaked into the black water, and for the first time saw the marble white bodies that littered the water, floating just below the surface. "Those are a lot of corpses." Kylie remarked, disgusted by the sight of so many dead bodies.

"This is Voldemort, did you expect anything less?" Harry chided, as he studied the boat more closely, checking the spells that were on it. "Listen, you won't be able to come with me, but if something happens, check my workshop, okay? There are a few things there that will allow the Order to continue on without a hitch, I've made sure of that."

Kylie cocked an eyebrow, a thought crossing his mind. "Harry, how dangerous is this exactly? You're acting like you could die."

"I could." Harry answered, promptly and evenly as though they were talking about the weather.

"What? Let me do this then." Kylie responded forcefully, fearing for his friend's life.

Harry shook his head, smiling broadly. "No, you're here just as a precaution." He took a step into the boat, and coiled the chain onto the floor. "Well, off I go."

The boat pushed off the bank, and began making its way towards the island; it moved without Harry needing to move it, as though an invisible rope was pulling it onward toward the center of the lake. There was no sound other than the silken rustle of the boat cleaving the water. He could not pretend now that he was not curious. The great black lake, teeming with the dead as he moved forward into the great unknown, it was somewhat exhilarating. He neared the island, and saw the source of the greenish light, which looked much brighter when viewed close to. The boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into the island's banks; the island itself was barely bigger than Harry's workroom, and was made of a smooth rock. It was an expanse of flat dark stone on which nothing but the source of the greenish light stood.

The light was coming from a stone basin of some kind that was rather like a Pensieve on top of a pedestal. Harry approached the basin, and looked down into it, his wand held tightly in his hand. The basin was full of an emerald liquid that was emitting that phosphorescent glow. "What is it?" He heard Kylie's voice call out from the far banks.

"I am not sure," Harry yelled back, his eyes still looking at the liquid. "But it is something more worrisome than blood and bodies." Tentatively, Harry put his hand into the basin, attempting to touch the potion; he met an invisible barrier that prevented him coming within an inch of it, however. No matter how hard he pushed, his fingers encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and inflexible air. He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion, murmuring every so often. Nothing happened.

He took a closer look, and peered so closely into the basin that he could see his face reflected. He was sure that the Horcrux was in there, but he couldn't find a way to reach it. The potion could not be penetrated by hand, vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away. Likewise, it could not be transfigured, charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature. "It's supposed to be drunk." Harry called out, his voice carrying to Kylie.

"What?" Kylie screamed, mortified; that could, and knowing Voldemort probably would, kill Harry. "No!"

Harry nodded thoughtfully, trying to think of another solution but none came. "Yes, I think so: only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths."

"It could kill you!" Kylie growled, hating the fact that Harry had to put himself in danger to presumably save the wizarding world from Voldemort. "Come back, let me do it at least."

"No, I'm the one that's going to be doing this, but I will need help. Zeali!" He said out loud, and after a minute of waiting, his loyal house-elf appeared on the small island next to him with a pop. "Ah, I was hoping he would overlook house elf magic." Harry admitted, having wondered what would happen if Zeali did make it through the wards; if another wizard or witch of age had been on the island with him, he assumed that the island would submerge itself in the water, killing the two. Since Zeali was an elf, Voldemort's precautions and enchantments did not apply to the loyal companion. "How foolish of him." Harry chirped, referencing Voldemort's arrogance. Most wizards overlooked the magic of what they deemed lesser creatures, not realizing that their magic is just the same as wizards' and witches'.

Harry then flicked his wand and caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere. "Zeali," Harry said, quietly. The tiny elf looked up at him with his tennis-ball like brown eyes, his ears flapping in nervousness; the cave scared Zeali with its darkness--both literal darkness and figurative darkness. "If anything should happen to me, if I collapse or something of the like, I need you to make sure I keep drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. Do you understand?" He questioned, knowing that the potion must act in a way that would prevent him from taking the Horcrux; he thought that it might paralyze him, cause him to forget what he was there for, or even create so much pain that it served as a distraction.

"No, master, Zeali will do it for you." Zeali protested, not wanting his good and dear master to be hurt. "Zeali will do it." He said again with even more courage than before.

"Do you understand, Zeali?" Harry asked again, this time more harshly. Zeali shook his head unwillingly.

"Please, master, please, let Zeali do it! Let Zeali do this for his master, Harry Potter, please!" Zeali cried as Harry plunged the cup into the green liquid; the goblet sank into the surface as nothing else that Harry tried had. The wizard looked down at the house-elf, shaking his head slightly, smiling. Then he shifted his eyes over to Kylie, who was standing across the lake, watching from his perch along the cave wall; they both shared a look, wishing each other luck in the worst-case scenario.

Throwing his head back, Harry downed the liquid, and immediately gripped the basin, trying to hold himself up as the horrid potion rushed into his stomach. He dunked the cup into the pool with his eyes closed, blindly taking another swig. Then, as he tried to scoop up another cupful, he felt it; his mind exploded with images, with thoughts, with memories, and his body began to tremble as the worst pictures flooded his mind. With his vision blurry, Harry again dunked the cup into the pool, slower than he did before, filled it up and brought it to his lips; spreading them apart, Harry drank the liquid and dropped the cup to the ground. He staggered forward, needing to grip the pool with both hands to keep his balance. Kylie instinctively moved towards Harry, but stopped, realizing there was nothing he could do; it was all up to Zeali and Harry, and knowing Zeali, Harry was in good hands.

With great trepidation, Zeali bent down and grabbed the cup, and then pushed up onto his tippy toes and filled the cup up once more. "Drink, master Harry." Zeali whispered, tears forming in his tennis ball-like eyes. Harry slit open his mouth, and Zeali passed the liquid down his throat, loyally fulfilling the duty Harry asked him to accomplish.

His eyes were closed, and his breathing was heavy. His face was twitching as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. "Make it stop…make it stop." Again, Zeali dunked the goblet into the potion, filled it up, and put in front of Harry's mouth. "I don't want…don't make me." Harry muttered in a crackling voice.

"Master Harry, I'm sorry!" Zeali cried as he tipped the contents of the goblet into Harry's open mouth. Harry screamed, the noise echoing all around the vast chamber and across the dead black water.

Again and again, Zeali refilled the goblet and forced it down Harry's throat; Harry had yelled, screamed, and cried, but Zeali loyally fulfilled his duty. "Water." Harry croaked out, his eyelids flickering open.

"Water," nodded Zeali from bended knee. "Yes." The elf said, seizing the goblet, and flinging himself over to the edge of the rock and plunging it into the lake, filling it to the brim with icy water. Holding the goblet with his two tiny hands, he began to carefully walk his way over to Harry, but out of nowhere, a slimy white hand had gripped his ankle. The creature to whom the hand belonged to was pulling the small elf backward, slowly across the rock and to the lake.

Zeali threw the water on Harry's face, freeing his hands, and using them to blast the Inferi off of him. "You will not harm my master!" As the first Inferi fell into the now churning lake with a splash, many more Inferi were already climbing onto the rock, their bony hands clawing at its surface. Zeali quickly and desperately tried to blast the Inferi back away from Harry, but he was becoming overcome soon enough. Outnumbered, and too young to know how to fend off Inferi, Zeali felt arms enclose around him from behind. His feet left the ground as they lifted him up and started to carry him back to the water; his body wriggling desperately to get free.

Then, out of the darkness, fire erupted: orange and yellow, a ring of fire surrounded the rock, and a thin rope of fire wound its way back to Kylie's wand. The Inferi that was holding Zeali stumbled and faltered, daring not to pass the fire to get to the water. A bolt of fire from Harry's wand washed over the Inferi's back and he immediately dropped Zeali; Harry growled as he slowly rose to his feet. He was as pale as the Inferi that surrounded him.

Harry scooped up the locket from the bottom of the stone basin, stowing it inside his robes. "Come, Zeali." He said, tiredly; he looked as if he was about to pass out. The house-elf came swiftly to him, and Harry immediately reached down and grabbed Zeali's shoulder. _Just a little more, Harry, you can make it, _he heard a voice in his head say, though he didn't know if it was his own voice or someone else's. He knew he was dying, and that he needed to get to the safety that Kylie offered. "Apparate us over to Kylie, Zeali." He whispered to his companion, as he flirted with the darkness and unconsciousness that was about to overtake him.

Zeali nodded, and with what felt to be a pull at his naval, Harry and his elf appeared on the other bank; Kylie was off to the side, seemingly concentrating on the ring of fire that was holding the Inferi at bay. "Harry!" Kylie gasped, as Harry collapsed onto his shoulder.

"Get me out of this cave…water. I'm so weak." Harry whispered, his eyes closed and face pale. Kylie pulled Harry's arm around his shoulders, and guided him back around the lake, bearing most of his weight. "The protection was…after all…well-designed. One alone could not have done it…" Harry rasped out, faintly. He was mumbling something indistinguishable to Kylie, as if he was having a separate conversation with some unseen force or person.

"Save your energy, Harry." Kylie replied, fearing how much Harry was dragging his feet.

"The doorway will have sealed again." Kylie nodded in understanding, and ran his free hand against the wall as they walked, hoping to get it scratched to the point that blood shows. They reached the archway finally, and Kylie ran his now bloodied hand upon the stone; having received its tribute of blood, the archway reopened instantly. Kylie dragged Harry through the doorway, and placed him on the outer cave ground, right next to the ocean and the entrance. "In…my…workshop….gold potion….I need it." Harry whispered, his eyes closed and his face pale.

Kylie nodded, and looking down at Zeali, he said, "Stay here with him. I'll be back straight away." Then, diving into the ocean, he swam to the boulders and apparated away to Harry's house.

Quickly, he said the password that would grant him entrance to the grounds, and as soon as the metal gates opened just enough to slide past them, he did. He sprinted, fast and breathlessly, up the path and to the house, entering into the building with reckless abandon. He hopped up the stairs two at a time, crossing over the landing and galloping down the hall till he reached the library. He dashed to the bookshelf that hid Harry's workshop, and scrolled his eyes over the illusive parseltongue tome that would grant him access to the hidden chamber; it was charmed to move around the shelf, trading places with various books and tomes throughout the day. Finding it after what he thought was an eternity but was more like a minute, he pulled on the green and brown spine, and with a creek, the bookshelf began to spread apart, revealing Harry's workshop.

Luckily enough, for both Kylie's and Harry's sake, there were two vials of the golden potion on top of the desk, hanging loosely in a small wooden holder. In his hurry, he knocked one of the vials onto the floor as he reached for it; upon hitting the floor, it cracked and with a wisp of smoke vanished into thin air, leaving its glass container in pieces on the floor. Being more careful this time, he reached for the last vial and secured it into his hand before placing it safely in his pocket; he then took off, out of the room, and back to where Harry was.

With an abnormally loud crack, Kylie arrived back on the boulders that led to the cave. He dove into the freezing water once again, and with a semi-perfect breaststroke, he made his way through the tunnel and into the outer cave where Harry was. Arriving and with Zeali bent down next to Harry, crying above his master, Kylie heaved himself out of the water; he was soaking wet and his teeth were chattering slightly. He dropped next to his friend and pulled out the golden potion, uncorking the stopper with one hand. Then he gently opened up Harry's mouth and tilted the potion into it, watching with baited breath as Harry instinctively swallowed it.

The effects took three minutes to show themselves, but once they did, Harry's color returned to almost its full tone. His fever had died down, and he stopped sweating. The most notable change, however, was the fact that he had stopped mumbling in his low and unenergetic voice, the images he was seeing in his head apparently disappearing. His eyes slowly opened as he coughed out, his hand wiping the perspiration off of his brow. "Are you okay?" Kylie asked, anxiously, wondering if the unknown potion had worked.

"Hopefully." Harry replied, groggily. His head was still throbbing, and the lump in his throat that he had had since his lips first touched Voldemort's potion had yet to subside, clogging his wind pipe just enough that it was painful, but he could still breath. He reached down and felt his pocket, making sure that the locket he had picked up from the basin was still there and didn't fall out during his retreat from the island. "We should go." Harry said, sitting up. Kylie nodded, and together they dove into the water, swimming out of the cave and to the boulders that sat in the ocean; Zeali had apparated away by Harry's orders, meanwhile.

Once out of the cave and after Kylie had disapparated home, Harry sat on a flat rock that loomed over the ocean, taking out the locket and giving it a good look. It was heavy, large, and golden, with an emerald-less, serpentine S on its front. It looked pretty mundane to him, nothing like a piece of history should have looked like in his mind. Confusedly, he turned it over, trying to pry it open with his hands, wondering what kind of secrets it held. With a click, the front door popped open, revealing an aged and yellowed piece of parchment that was folded up so it would fit inside. Harry took it out, placed it on his lap, and studied the compartment: nothing. It was empty and golden, no magical properties or telltale signs of it being a Horcrux to speak of. Cocking an eyebrow, and with a knot tightening in his stomach, he reached down and unfolded the paper, reading what it had to say:

"_To the Dark Lord  
I know I will be dead long before you read this  
but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.  
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.  
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match  
you will be mortal once more.  
R.A.B"_

"I don't have time for this," Harry growled, anger rising inside of him. He wasted his time, his precious time, searching for a Horcrux that was already gone. Who knew where it could be, it could have been anywhere: heck, it could have already been destroyed. He couldn't know for certain, however, until he found it, until he had the real Horcrux in his hand and in his possession. In order to do that, though, one question needed answering, the only question that would lead him to where it was: "Who in Merlin's name is R.A.B?" He asked himself, out loud.

The rest of the day and night, Harry spent resting and overcoming the effects Voldemort's potion had on him. His head was still throbbing, the world spinning in his eyes. When Nymphadora came home from work that day, Harry couldn't help but see four of her, even though he knew there was only one: after all, Nymphadora was too special in his eyes to have any duplicates. He had a large dinner, hoping to settle his stomach, and then went immediately to bed, knowing that enough sleep was his only chance to completely beat the potion; he was lucky enough to not be dead, he wasn't taking any chances and would rather take it safe than sorry. As he passed into dreamland, however, he couldn't help but think about the work he still had to complete, and knew that he would have to get on that the next morning.

A day passed, which Harry spent searching for someone with the initials of R.A.B, but all he could find were "Rupert 'Axebringer' Brookstanton" and "Rosalind Antigone Bungs", but neither made much sense as they were in no way connected to Voldemort. He was still a little shaken up from Voldemort's potion that he had to drink two days before, his insides feeling as if they weighed a thousand pounds. Sighing, Harry dropped into a cushiony chair in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place, the fire blazing in the fireplace next to him. Sirius sat across from him, reading a wizarding magazine and drinking a chilled butterbeer. "Something the matter?" Sirius questioned, not looking up from his reading. Harry had filled him in on his search for the Horcruxes, though didn't go over every detail of what they were: all Sirius knew was that in order for Voldemort to be defeated, truly defeated, various powerful items needed to be destroyed, a mission only Harry could finish.

"Lots." Harry replied, somewhat lazily. "You wouldn't happen to know someone named R.A.B, would you?" Harry asked, rhetorically, not expecting fate to throw him a helping hand. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and prepared himself to take a nap, hoping that the rest would give his mind new ideas and perspectives.

"Yeah, my brother." Sirius replied, distractedly. "I haven't heard that name in awhile." He gave out a hollow laugh, remembering when he and his brother hated each other during their Hogwarts days. He was glad that their relationship was back where it should have always been, albeit with Regulus being dead.

Harry's head shot up instantly, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. _R.A.B: Regulus Arcturus Black, _he thought to himself_, and Regulus was a Death Eater. It makes perfect sense! How did I not think of it?_ "Would your brother have called himself R.A.B?" Harry asked, sharply, wondering if it could be that easy, that simple. The Horcrux, after all, might just fall into his lap. He mentally kicked himself, forgetting that Regulus' middle name was Arcturus; he had stared at the Black family tree for hours, just running over the many different names that were on it, and surely he had noticed Regulus' full name at least once.

"Yes, yes, he did when he turned seventeen, wanting a name for himself. He hoped to become a big hotshot around the Death Eater's, and he thought by stripping himself of the Black name it would show them that he was a wizard in his own right; one that didn't need his family's fame." Sirius replied, this time with a little more interest, having understood the tone of Harry's voice as serious.

Immediately, as if someone had lit a fire under his chair, Harry jumped up and rushed to Regulus' portrait, knocking on the empty frame once he reached it. Seconds later, Regulus strolled in, yawning. "You called?" Regulus inquired, looking down at Harry.

"How did you die? You didn't die by Voldemort's hands, did you? No, you betrayed him, didn't you?" Harry inquired, quickly and somewhat forcefully. With a simple hint, a simple nudge in the right direction, Harry had pieced together the general story of what had happened, one that had Regulus being a true hero.

"No," Regulus said, watching as Sirius strolled up next to Harry. His eyes shifted about, searching a place to go, away from all the questioning. "That's a hysterical idea; you've got quite the imagination, Harry." Regulus laughed, though they both could tell it wasn't real.

"Tell us the truth, Regulus." Sirius ordered, staring at his brother with his gray eyes. He didn't know what was going on, but by the way Harry had raced to the portrait and Regulus' fake laughter, he knew something important was up.

Regulus sighed, rubbed his forehead, and began to speak; his voice just a whisper. "We were on a raid one night, and I was supposed to kill this muggle, but for some reason I couldn't. He was innocent, guilty of nothing except being unmagical, so I left him alive, but someone had seen. That someone must have told Voldemort, and on his orders, Bellatrix tortured me until I could barely think straight anymore. They let me live, however, and on the brink of death, I apparated home and acted quickly. I had Kreacher take me to the cave I knew the Dark Lord's Horcrux was, for Kreacher himself had been taking to the cave personally a year or two before, gave him a fake locket for him to switch, and drank the potion down myself. Once Kreacher switched the lockets, he left on my own personal orders, and I was dragged down into a lake, where I died."

"Do you know if Kreacher destroyed the Horcrux or not?" Harry asked, hoping that would save him some time. As it was, he had too much to do, too much to research and look for, scratching off one Horcrux from the list would help him a great deal.

"I tried to destroy it before he left with it," Regulus answered, looking slightly worried. Did he die for nothing? Did Kreacher disobey him, keep the locket for himself, and leave to the Malfoys, making all his hard work and sacrifice null and void? _No_, he thought to himself, _I was good to Kreacher; he loved me_. "I don't know what happened to it, but I know Kreacher wouldn't have left the house with it, that's for sure. Maybe, just maybe, he failed destroying it and left the House of Black out of shame."

"If that's the case," Sirius said, slowly, hoping he understood Kreacher and Regulus' bond to each other. They, believe it or not, loved one another, as Kreacher was treated well by Regulus, and Kreacher made sure to do for and give Regulus whatever he wanted. "Then he would have left it here, knowing that it was rightfully the Blacks'."

"He did." Harry whispered, more to himself than the other two; he was staring off into space, lost in the thought that had stricken him. Then, turning and running towards the fireplace, he called out, "I'll be right back. I can't believe I was so stupid! I completely forgot something." He threw down a handful of floo powder, and disappeared in a torrent of green flames, leaving Regulus and Sirius behind in confusion.

Harry ran through the halls of his home, knowing just where the Horcrux of Voldemort's was. It wasn't that he had forgotten that he had taken a locket from Grimmauld Place a few months ago, it's that he never imagined that it would actually amount to something…ever. He thought it was just a treasure look-alike that, although beautiful, wasn't all that important or dated. After all, Grimmauld Place was a haven for Slytherin apparel, who would have thought the house would actually have the real thing? Skidding into the library, he searched for the parseltongue book, and upon finding it, he pulled on the spine, allowing the bookshelf to open up to reveal his hidden chamber that housed all of his darkest, most dangerous books and devices. Sure enough, sitting on one of his desks was the gold locket, glistening with a beauty that was not present before he understood it to be a Horcrux, as if that it had just found out that it was important somehow.

Harry gave out a sigh of relief, knowing that it was without a doubt one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He gingerly took it in his hands, gazing at it as if it were brand new, completely unseen and untested before then. He flipped it over, trying to pry it open, hoping to see what was inside. After a few minutes with nothing to show for his work, Harry decided to take out his wand and see if he could open it using magic. "Alohomora," He said, knowing nothing would happen. "Claudo Revelio", he recited next, knowing whatever defenses the locket had would show up with the spell. Just as he expected, as if he had the knowledge already in his head, he instantly knew that it was being defended by the Dictum charm: a charm that safeguarded an object or door with a spoken password. There was something about it, however, that was different than it would be with a normal Dictum charm—it was twisted, corrupted someway, as if the password was in a different language than English.

That's when it hit him; it rushed into his mind like a speeding train. Staring him in the eyes, he looked down at the jeweled serpentine S on the top of the locket; he knew how he could open Slytherin's locket. He had seen it before, felt it before, and had even performed the same charm before: on his ring box that housed Tonks' engagement ring. "Parseltongue." He whispered to himself, a small, confident smile gracing his handsome face. "_Open,"_ He hissed, and the golden doors of the locket swung wide with a little click.

There, behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle's eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and slit-pupiled. _"Harry Potter, we meet at last!"_ A voice hissed from out of the Horcrux. _"Free me, help me out, and we shall overthrow my older self and rule together, as equals."_ Harry looked down, a cold feeling, as if it was a hand, gripping his heart. Immediately, Harry closed the locket back up, blocking the eye from the world and preventing any further effects the Horcrux would have from reaching him.

Harry sighed, falling down into his wooden stool, trying to catch his breath. It was like the locket, the soul within the locket, had read his mind, his heart, and figured out who he was. It took a few moments for the chill to wash away, and his breath to level out. While he had come into contact with Tom Riddle's diary on a daily basis, writing in it every so often when he needed to find out something about Voldemort, he had never felt the effects he had just overcome him; a fact that both confused and creeped Harry out. He prodded the locket with his wand; quizzically checking it out before he stood back up, ready to destroy it once and for all. The curse that he would use quickly jumped to the forefront of his mind, as other spells did in other situations; he just hoped this one worked.

"Shame I have to destroy a priceless artifact like this." Harry muttered, knowing that, with what he was about to do, a piece of history was going to be erased from the world. No matter how bad Salazar Slytherin was, or how evil and bigoted his views were, he was one of the greatest wizards ever, right up there with Godric Gryffindor, Merlin, and, yes, Albus Dumbledore. Plus, being that he was so close to being sorted into Slytherin himself, with the hat saying it would be either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, he felt a sort of connection with the locket, as if his mind thought it rightfully belonged to him. Knowing that what he was about to do was the right thing, he gripped his wand, threw the locket into the air, and said, "Mordens!"

A burst of burning orange flames shot out from his wand and into the air; it was round like a ball, and flew as if someone had thrown it. As it neared the locket, the flames thinned out, creating a snake-like head of fire. Then, opening up its fiery jaws, the snake made out of flames engulfed the heavy, golden locket, burning it from all sides. The golden doors of the locket popped open from the heat and pressure, the dark and handsome eye wide with fear: then there was a scream. So loud and blood curdling was it that Harry cringed, its tones sending shivers up his spine. Even still, a fascinated Harry watched what was transpiring, knowing that in a few seconds the part of Voldemort that was inside would be destroyed. Sure enough, the eye turned red, and then exploded outwards, leaving the golden locket half destroyed as it fell to the ground, still alit with flames. Harry swished his wand, muttering the counter spell to the Fiendfyre, extinguishing the smoldering pieces of metal that laid on the floor.

Bending down, Harry tentatively reached out for the locket, noticing that the door was completely destroyed and the insides were burned and singed a brown color. He held his hand over it, feeling if it was hot, and when he saw that it wasn't, he picked it up and placed it onto the wooden desk, right next to the Peverell ring. "Four more," He said to himself, giving the ring and the locket one last look before turning and leaving the chamber, closing the bookshelf behind him, locking the room.

A/N:Here are the spells of that appear in this chapter (I gave the Fiendfyre spell a real, tangible effect and an incantation so I hope you like it)-

**Mordens: **The Fiendfyre Curse that creates intense flames that display pseudo awareness. Mordu means "Fiend" in French, and "Ardens" means burning in Latin. The first part of Mordu, Mor, and the last part of Ardens, dens, creates Mordens.

**Claudo Revelio: **The Ward Revealing spell that gives the user knowledge of the protections around an object. Claudo is Latin for confine, and Revelio is Latin meaning to reveal/pluck away/unveil.

A/N: Potions-

**Gold Potion- **This potion is too important to the general story to give it away now, so I'm not going to name it or tell you its effects. I'll give you the etymology of it the next time it appears.


	29. Home for the Holidays: Run Run Draco

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Well, here it is. I know its been awhile, but I'm super busy. Hopefully this chapter, which is quite long, will tied you over.

S/N 2: Here you get all the information about the Potter family that I said I would tell you about way back when. I have their whole entire family drawn out, it's quite cool, really. Anyway, this story is quickly coming to a close, I think you'd be surprised how little is left: the next few chapters are fast paced.

Chapter 29: Home for the Holidays: Run Run Draco.

The Dark Lord Voldemort paced around the stone room that he was occupying, his anger and rage palpable throughout the darkness. Draco Malfoy, the man he had entrusted with punishing the purebloods that had refused to join the Dark Lord's cause, had failed him once again, this time by getting another five of his Death Eaters caught. "You," He pointed to a large Death Eater off to the side, who was dumbly standing around. "Get me Malfoy."

The tall, heavyset Death Eater nodded, and ran out of the room as fast as his enormous body could take him. He went down the twisty, bendy hallways of the manor until he found the wizard he was looking for. Taking out his wand, he slowly inched closer and closer to Draco's turned back, and then just as he was close enough to insure a direct hit, he recited a spell. Draco, who had heard the attack fast enough to defend himself, circled around and looked at his aggressor with wide, incredulous eyes. "Crabbe?" He questioned, confusedly.

"Our Master wants you." Crabbe said, a gleeful look upon his face. Draco studied the man's features, and as if learning what he wanted to know, threw a stunner at the lumbering Death Eater. The jet of red light hit Crabbe's chest and immediately knocked him unconscious, sending his body to the ground in a lump.

"What is going on here?" A voice cut through the air, startling Draco and making him almost drop his wand. Quickly, the wizard turned around to face the voice, and gave a small, unnoticeable sigh at the sight of Theodore Nott.

"Nott, thank Merlin its you." Draco started, his voice nervous and his tone serious. "The Dark Lord, he wants me dead, I need help."

"The Dark Lord wants you?" Theodore replied, raising his wand at Draco's form, threateningly. "Why? Have you betrayed him? Have you sold us all out to the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry, perhaps?" Nott accused, his eyes narrowing on Draco and his body preparing for a fight.

"Theodore, please, we're friends…" Draco begged, staring the rabbit-looking man straight in the eyes. His face, which was framed with his white blond hair, was all but frowning, showing how fearful the wizard was.

"Oh, now we're friends?" Nott replied sarcastically, cocking up a mocking eyebrow. "What about in Hogwarts when I refused to be pushed around by you like Crabbe and Goyle were? Were we friends then? Face it, Draco, you couldn't stand that I was just as pure, rich, and even smarter than you were: you hated it, and basically loathed me for it."

"But now?" Draco pleaded, realizing for the first time in his life that his past transgressions were going to come back and bite him: Crabbe had proven that already by turning on him. He thought with his money, his looks, and his power, that he'd be able to get himself out of anything and that nothing could touch him, but now he was figuring out just how wrong he was.

"Arm yourself, Draco, because no one else here will save you." Nott said with a hint of pity in his voice, though there wasn't much. He gave one last look to the blond before turning and beginning to head out of the room, his head held high. Before he left, however, he stopped, took a deep breath as if to gather his thoughts, and said, "I won't come after you, Draco, but I won't help you, either. I think, by asking me of all people for help, you're asking the wrong side." Then, without saying anything else, Nott left the room, wondering if Draco was smart or aware enough to get the meaning of his message.

Draco apparated away to his home immediately, all the while knowing that the Dark Lord would send more Death Eaters after him soon; they wouldn't stop until he was dead, that he knew for sure. Grabbing his wand, he ran through the halls of his house franticly, trying to defend it as best as he could. He didn't know many wards, and his protection spells left much to be desired, but he hoped what he did know would be enough for the time being, to secure his safety until he could think of something else. Luckily for him, he didn't have the extensive grounds around his home that the Malfoy manor had; instead, he lived in a wooded area in the middle of England that had a small brook that ran though his backyard. A mile or two down the road was a muggle village that, for all intents and purposes, didn't even know Draco's house existed because of the various charms that were already on the house.

Meanwhile, back in Voldemort's throne room, Nott was bowing in front of the Dark Lord, relaying to him that Draco had fled. "And there was nothing you could do to stop him, Nott?" Voldemort sneered, though a vicious smirk was forming on his face; oh how he loved to see his servants squirm, to quiver at his feet.

"I beg your pardon, my liege, but I was not privy to the information that we were to capture Draco. I apologize, and am ready for whatever punishment you deal to me: I will not flee like a coward." Theodore gulped down the ball that was in his throat, daring not to meet the Dark Lord's eyes; he was brave, yes, but not stupid.

Voldemort gave out a laugh; it was filled with nothing but contempt, as a feeling of maniacal glee overtook him. Nott had impressed him once again, more so than any of the other new Death Eaters ever had: Stephen Cornfoot had his moments, however brief they were; Marcus Flint was surprisingly cognizant and attentive to his surroundings most of the time; and Draco Malfoy, previous to his abandonment to the cause, could stir up great numbers by the clout and power his name brought, and some times could be an articulate and intelligent orator and diplomat like his father was, but none had the same nature as Nott—the same sense of self and propriety that kept the man from being punished, the same sense of…servitude. "No matter," The Dark Lord muttered, shrugging his bony shoulders. "Malfoy will be captured by us soon enough, just as Karkaroff was!" Voldemort yelled out, as a wave of cheers and grunts of acknowledgement followed from his Death Eaters.

Not even a month ago, Death Eaters had infiltrated the halls of Durmstrang, where Igor Karkaroff was Headmaster, and had killed the traitor right in his own office. Karkaroff had put up a good fight, as before his murder he had been running from the Death Eaters and had only just returned to what he presumed was the safety of his school when his death was finally brought upon him. The Ministries of both Latvia—where Durmstrang was located—and England had covered it up, fearing that if word had gotten out that another Headmaster of a school had been killed in his own school, that the parents would pull their children out of school for fear of their safety. Generally, it had worked as the public was not the wiser for it, but there had been a few leaks of the information throughout both ministries by reporters that had to be squashed.

An hour later and in the heart of London, the Order of the Phoenix was meeting in the House of Black. Harry stood at the head of the table, a small frown on his face as he addressed the rest of the members; they're eyes were firmly on the wizard, their attention completely his. "I need to find Dumbledore's brother; I need him to tell the Order information about something Albus wanted us to know. But in order to accomplish that, however, I need time: so for the next few days, we will not be having a meeting. This hiatus will last until after Christmas, so we'll all have time to rest and relax, which is a change from normal. If you hear something, or if there is an attack, then alert the Order members that you know and talk to on a daily basis—Sirius will still be here to listen to what you have to say, so if worst comes to worst, come here, talk to Sirius, and he'll relay it to me. I'm sorry but this is much too important to not take care of. Dumbledore's brother just might be the person who can help us beat Voldemort for good."

Harry made eye contact with both Elphias Doge and Dedalus Diggle, silently telling them that they would speak later. Those two, having gone to school with Albus and being childhood friends with him, knew where Aberforth was, and if they said something, anything, then Harry's plan would be ruined. You see, Harry was already a friend of Aberforth; he knew the man well and went to the Hog's Head tavern a few times a month, that's why it was a perfect trap. He was trying to sell it to see if there really was a spy: he hoped that the spy would run back to Voldemort and squeal, allowing Kylie and Snape to know about him. Surely, if Harry said it was that important, important enough to ruin the Dark Lord, Voldemort would babble it out to his lowly Death Eaters. Fortunately enough, only a handful of people from the Order even realized that Aberforth had made an appearance during that first Order meeting; appearing as the hooded figure that trounced down the stairs during Albus Dumbledore's opening speech.

Everyone gave a nod of understanding, having no idea that Harry was tricking them all, hoodwinking them in the hopes of finding the leak in the Order. "Good, now that we have that covered, we can move onto the other items of the day." Harry said, reading off a few things from the piece of parchment that was on the table in front of him. "What do we have on Death Eaters' actions?" Harry questioned, looking between Snape and Kylie, his two spies.

Kylie cleared his throat, a dryness overcoming it for some reason. "He's sent the upper level Death Eaters out on missions; the only one we see at the meetings is Quirrell, who hasn't left the Dark Lord's side since he killed Dumbledore, seemingly being exalted to the Dark Lord's favorite and most worthy. Meanwhile, Pettigrew hasn't been seen for weeks…"

"He probably ran away because, like always, he's too afraid to fight." Sirius snidely interrupted with a laugh. He still couldn't believe that Peter and him had still yet to have that duel he'd waited so long to have; Pettigrew was never on the raids that Sirius was trying to stop, so the chance had never come about.

"No, I don't think so." Kylie corrected, continuing on as if Sirius had never interrupted. "He's off on some mission we think, one of such great importance that he hasn't told anyone about it: not me, not Snape, perhaps not even Quirrell or Crouch. The Dark Lord, all the while, is working on a project as well by the hints that he's given us lately."

"Any ideas?" Harry questioned the pair, wanting to know what they thought.

"About Pettigrew? No." Snape shook his head, entering the conversation. "But The Dark Lord? We think he's after the Deathstick."

There was a gasp around the table, a look of fear and intrigue on most peoples' faces. To the general populace of the wizarding world, the Elder Wand, commonly known as the Deathstick or the Wand of Destiny, was just a legend, a fairy tale that parents told their children about, so hearing that a wizard of Voldemort's caliber believed it to be real was quite shocking. Harry quietly looked around the room, and upon seeing their faces, gave a small smile. "Perhaps," He said, easily, knowing that the Elder Wand was perfectly hidden from Voldemort. "What about the rest of his important Death Eaters? How about the Lestranges, what do you know about them?"

Despereaux's ears perked up at the mention of his father's name, and he leaned into the table more, wanting to hear a little more clearly. "Bellatrix has just started to show her face again, but doesn't attend the meetings all of the time; she doesn't look the same, that's for sure." Kylie relayed, shrugging a little. "Rodolphus only shows up when Bellatrix comes, clearly still taking care of her, and Rabastan doesn't really do anything that we can see. He just kind of stands there, menacing-like."

"And the Malfoys," Snape continued, giving Kylie a dirty look. "Are barely hanging on; Draco has already been run out of the country just this morning, and Lucius is backpedaling, trying to calm the storm that his son brought about. My guess is that he'll be fleeing soon enough, too, if he hasn't already."

"We still don't have enough of them captured, unfortunately." Harry muttered, shaking his head in disappointment. "What did Draco do that he had to flee for?"

"He was being himself, that's what he did—he was too arrogant and lost too many Death Eaters during his raids against purebloods." Snape answered, ironically stating the opposite of what Harry had just said. "The Dark Lord thinks his forces are dwindling, and like always, needs someone to blame it on that's not himself."

"We don't know if really did flee the country or not, we're only guessing; either way, though, he won't be back with the Death Eaters for the foreseeable future." Kylie interjected, correcting Snape.

"So we still have Barty Crouch, Antonin Dolohov, and Augustus Rookwood all unaccounted for." Harry ticked off, using his fingers for emphasis. "What about the others that escaped Azkaban: Mulciber, Travers, Jugson and Gibbon?"

"They're around." Snape replied, looking bored and disinterested, as if he had somewhere else, somewhere more interesting to be. "Until Quirrell or Crouch moves, the rest just go on random raids. And with Pettigrew still away on his mission, whatever it is, I doubt Quirrell will be going anywhere anytime soon. As for Rookwood and Dolohov, they're a lot harder to pinpoint: they have the skill, power, and knowledge to go out on their own, but they seem to answer to Crouch and Quirrell like the others, which leads me to believe that its just a front, that they're up to something as well."

"I'd feel much better if they were back in Azkaban. At least there, they'd be guarded by Aurors and the six loyal Dementors." Kingsley brought up, showing his trust in the Dementors that had stayed—Harry and Dumbledore had been weary, but the Dementors had proven themselves in Kingsley's eyes. They had made sure that the captured Death Eaters stayed where they were, rather than allow them to just escape out of their cells like most thought they would have. Sure, they still weren't a pleasure to be around, but they weren't feeding off innocent souls like their brethren were.

"Those Dementors have kept their promise, huh? Its incredible: they said Azkaban would be safe, and it has been. The Dark Lord can't even get near it." Despereaux said, a hint of amazement in his French-accented voice. He remembered his first ever Order meeting, when the great Azkaban escape had just happened and Kingsley had reported the news; it was forever engrained his mind. It was the day that his father, who had long been dormant in the back of his mind, entered the forefront of his thoughts. Just as the feeling of nostalgia overtook him, he was thrown out of his memories by a question from Remus, the resident werewolf.

"What about Greyback? I haven't seen him around any of the werewolf clans lately." Remus said in a low voice; he looked tired and haggard, and his face was accentuated with sleep-deprived bags under his eyes.

"He's got quite a few werewolves on the Death Eater's side; and Macnair has numerous other beasts and animals on their side, too." Snape replied with a scowl, as if the very thought of a werewolf disgusted him. Off to the side, Sirius growled underneath his breath, seeing the scowl on the Potion master's face, which he assumed was for Remus.

"Doesn't your father work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Diggory?" Tynan Davis questioned from his seat at the end of the table, a rare occurrence during the Order meetings. He usually stood back and listened, not inputting anything into the conversation, instead he would just help whenever asked.

"Ah, yeah, why?" Cedric responded, confusedly.

"Walden Macnair works for the Department, as well, doesn't he?" Broderick Bode added, seeing the line of thinking that Davis was having. "Perhaps we could find out what beasts he's acquired and where he has them hidden."

"Macnair hasn't stepped foot in the Department since You-Know-Who reappeared, as you should know, Bode." Sturgis Podmore said, shooting down Bode's idea. Podmore, who worked in the Ministry as a member of the Department of Magical Transportation, was a member of the Order during Voldemort's first rise to power and had come back to fight the Dark Lord again, giving the Order another spy within the Ministry's ranks. He had a square jaw and thick straw colored hair, and his one claim to fame was being a distant relative of Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore, the ghost in charge of the headless hunt.

A moment of silence overtook the group, and Harry cleared his throat, regaining everyone's attention. "That'll be all for today." He said, quietly. "Have a good holiday, everyone."

The Order Members began to file out, and as Elphias Doge and Dedalus Diggle passed Harry, they quietly whispered, "We don't even want to know: we trust you, and we understand that you have a plan for something that deals with Aberforth." Harry nodded and watched as they both left, his eyes traveling with them as they walked up the stairs, before he too left the room, apparating back to his home in Wales.

Harry yawned as he walked out of the Hitwizard's office the next morning, finally done with his work for the night. He waved to a few of his colleagues that were gathering their things to leave as well, and he entered the hallway, making his way to the floor connected fireplaces that lined the atrium's walls. As he entered the high-ceilinged room, an eerie sensation washed over him and the hair on his neck stood up on end. He cocked an eyebrow and scanned the room with his intense green gaze; in the corner there was a man reading the Daily Prophet, who would peak over the paper every so often to take a look at Harry and then return to his reading.

Then, nipping his shoulder, an aged man briskly passed him by, and after walking a good ten feet further away, stopped and turned around slowly to face Harry. "The country burns around you, wizards and witches of all ages scream out in pain, and yet you lollygag around the Ministry of Magic, as if searching for bogeymen that don't exist."

"What?" Harry asked, giving the man a curious look. He had a long, gray beard that was seemingly tucked into the belt on his robes, and thinning gray hair that cascaded down his back. Harry squinted his eyes to try and read the half covered name tag that was partially covered underneath the man's beard on the right side of his chest, and only could make out the first two letters: BA.

"You have work to do, don't you?" The man said, this time his voice came out less forcefully, as if he realized his faux pas and wanted to correct himself. There was a nervous quality to him, not a fearing type of nervous but instead it was more like a frazzled kind of nervous, a trait that came about when people hadn't learned the ways of socialization; though his nerves were masked by the resolution of his tone.

"HARRY!" A voice called through the air, catching Harry's attention. The wizard turned towards the voice, and smiled upon seeing Hermione. Then, remembering the conversation he was having with the old man, he turned back just in time to see him disappear in the fireplace with a flash of green flames. "Who was that?" Hermione questioned, interestedly.

"I…I don't know." Harry replied, thoughtfully. His eyes continued to stay on the same fireplace that the man had disappeared from as he asked, "What are you doing here so early?"

"A few reasons." Hermione said, quietly, her demeanor changing to a somewhat worried one. "I'll tell you when we're alone or in a place someone can't overhear us, okay?" She whispered, and he nodded, cocking an eyebrow. "I'll see you later!" She waved, and walked down the hallway to the stairs that would lead to the Department of Mysteries.

Harry stood there for another minute or two, his mind wandering back to that old man. For some reason, he had an unbelievable sense of déjà vu, as if he had seen that man and lived that moment once before, but why? He was sure he didn't know that man, let alone having spoke to him once before, but even still, that sense of familiarity had overcome him with great persuasion. The image of Lilyre's burning house entered his thoughts, that strange shadowed man that appeared under the trees coming to the forefront of his memories, his half covered face and long gray hair rushing into his mind's eye. They had to be one and the same, didn't they? He would find out that answer, but first he needed sleep. So, with another tired yawn, he flooed back to his home, laid down on the couch that was next to the fire place and passed out, the merciful darkness of sleep overcoming him.

December twenty-first arrived, which meant winter finally appeared, and with it, even in the dark times that the wizarding world was experiencing, came Christmas joy. People from all around the country were littering the streets of both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, laughing while they bought presents for their loved ones, seemingly not a care in the world except for making their family and friends happy. Little boys and girls skipped down Diagon Alley wearing mittens and woolen hats as Harry walked towards a shop that was holding one of Nymphadora's presents; the children were trying to catch the snowflakes that were falling from the sky on their outstretched tongues. Women, meanwhile, bustled around him with bags in their arms, moving from one shop to the next, as though on a never-ending mission.

Harry nodded his head as he passed an Auror friend named Proudfoot, who gave a slight nod back, keeping his eyes out for danger. Swiftly, Harry entered a shop that sold magical jewelry and ornaments, perusing the shelves to see what they had to offer in interest. Not seeing anything that tickled his fancy, he exited the store and went to the next one. This pattern continued on for the rest of the day, Harry buying presents for all of his friends, family, and loved ones, not forgetting a single individual.

As he stopped by the Leaky Cauldron for a mug of warm butterbeer, a familiar face came walking past him. "Cepheus!" Harry called out, motioning the wizard over to him.

"Harry." Cepheus Nigel joyfully smiled back, coming over to the booth that Harry was at and taking the offered seat. "It's good to see you. It's been awhile, much too long."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but with the Dark Lord running around…. you know." Harry answered, biting his lip as he shrugged slightly, knowing that Cepheus would understand.

"Oh, I do, don't you worry. I was just mentioning it. Sirius has told me all about it over the last few months, keeping me informed I guess you could say." Cepheus replied before he ordered himself a drink, and then he turned his attention back to Harry. "Christmas shopping?" He questioned with a small smile. Seeing Harry's nod, his smile broadened. "Yeah, me too. I don't know what to get Austrinus or Lucida," He sighed.

"Cheer up, I'm sure you'll find something." Harry grinned, raising his glass and taking a chug of his drink; the warm liquid soothed his tired and cold body. The pair continued to talk until their mugs were empty, and then they parted ways with Harry going home and Cepheus going into Diagon Alley, presumably to buy his gifts.

Everybody spent the following morning putting up Christmas decorations around Harry's home—Harry and Tonks would be hosting the festivities during the Christmas season, having parties and other gatherings of the like. Harry couldn't help but smile at everyone being in such a good and chipper mood; Sirius especially was joyful, apparently delighted that he was to have a Christmas outside of the walls of Azkaban for the first time in over twenty years. They were all singing carols, their voices echoing up throughout the house, reaching the empty spaces that no one even knew about. Harry grinned as he charmed the large, full tree that was standing next to the window in the living room.

As Harry took a step back to admire his work, Sirius tramped over to the bowl of drink that housed a wizarding version of muggle eggnog, signing, "God Rest You, Merry Hippogriffs" at the top of his voice. He took a sip, and looked around the room, nodding in satisfaction. The chandeliers were hung with garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers; magical snow glittered in heaps over the lush carpets. The great Christmas tree, obtained in Harry's very own backyard, was decorated with live fairies, and magical snow and icicles adorned each branch; it was capped off with a gleaming gold star standing on the top.

Soon enough it was Christmas Eve day, and Harry and Tonks were just arriving at Kylie's manor for lunch. Since Kylie couldn't come to the festivities that Harry was hosting for the holiday the next day, due to having to be with Death Eaters all day and also not being able to divulge his identity, which would prevent him from truly enjoying himself at Harry's house, he had invited the wizard and his wife over for lunch so they could share presents and the like. Of course, Harry and Tonks accepted excitedly, wanting to be with their friends and knowing that this would be the only time to do it; plus, all of their other friends were with their families for the day, and Andromeda and Ted were with muggle childhood friends of Ted, so the couple had nowhere else to go.

Out came Tonks from the fireplace with a clumsy step, which promptly made her trip and fall to the floor. Harry appeared next, and having not seen Tonks on the floor, tripped over his wife and was on the floor just as she was. They both laughed as Kylie and his wife came running in, having heard the clatter. Kylie had his wand out, but upon seeing both Harry and Tonks on the floor in a fit of laughter, he smiled and put it away, tucking it inside his elegant crimson robes. "Glad to see your still as clumsy as ever, Tonks." Queenie giggled, rolling her eyes as the witch slightly.

"Unfortunately, its an affliction that never seems to go away." Tonks sighed, apparently not offended by the comment; Harry had made her realize, through his love, that being clumsy wasn't the worst thing in the world, and that people didn't think anything less of her because she was clumsy. "Happy Christmas!" She chirped, rising to her feet and giving Harry a helping hand.

"Merry Christmas." Queenie and Kylie said in unison, walking over to the pair and offering them both a greeting—a hug shared between the men, and a kiss on the cheek for the women. Harry looked over at the large tree that was in the corner, took out a few small boxes that seemed to be wrapped in paper that had moving carolers on it, and placed them under the tree with the rest of the presents that were already there. Then, waving his wand over the boxes, they jumped to a bigger size, filling out the space under the tree. After this, Kylie lead his guests into the dinning room, where a large, wonderful spread was laid out, consisting of all different foods.

There were cheeses, fruits, various breads and dips, and the centerpiece of the table was a beautifully roasted duck that glistened in oven-roasted beauty. Different kinds of vegetables were organized artistically around the duck, each with a glaze or another kind of delicious gravy. They all took their seats; the two couples on opposites sides of the table, facing one another. "It all looks so good," Tonks licked her lips, her eyes wandering over the duck.

"Queenie made all of it herself." Kylie smiled, kissing his wife's cheek; she blushed a little, bringing a rosy tint to her otherwise milky cheeks. Then, he stood up, grabbed his large knife and fork, and said, "Who wants some meat?"

"It does look good, Queenie." Harry nodded, passing his plate over to Kylie, who briskly cut a few pieces of the duck and placed it onto the plate. Harry handed his plate over to his wife, taking her plate and handing it back over to Kylie. "I always thought you would end up getting a house elf. After all, you do have a huge house and a lot of galleons in your bank, if I do say so myself."

"When we have kids, I'm sure we'll find a loyal elf." Queenie replied, taking a bite out of a piece of French bread. She dipped it into some sort of cheese dip, and then took another bite, giving into the taste.

"Are you trying?" Tonks questioned, a small, somber smile on her pretty heart-shaped face. Her thoughts drifted to her miscarried baby, bringing up a deep feeling of regret and sadness that went all the way to her core. She felt Harry rub her back, and she gave him a large grin, telling him that she would be okay.

Queenie waited patiently for Tonks to recompose herself before answering. "Not really. We would be if You-Know-Who wasn't around, but until then, no. We do want children, though."

"Voldemort will be gone soon, trust me." Harry whispered with confidence as he grabbed the butter to put some on his bread.

"I do, Harry." Queenie replied; her smile seemed to be contagious as they all smiled and laughed, enjoying the company. Silence loomed for the next few minutes as they ate their food, tasting everything that was on the table. Harry asked for seconds on the duck, digging into the scrumptious meat that was coated in a light marmalade like a hungry teenager.

After an hour, and with full stomachs, the group made their way into the living room, deciding to save dessert for later. A fire was blazing brightly in the fireplace, and the tree was beautifully decorated and lit up with charms. Kylie poured himself and Harry a snifter of firewhisky, while the females elected to have a glass of elderflower wine. The wizarding wireless was playing softly in the background, serenading them with Christmas carols that brought cheer to the room.

Kylie took a gulp of his drink, and then looked over to the frosty window, his gaze roaming his snow covered lands. "Tracey needs a place to stay. I'm afraid she can't be with us anymore, for fear of someone seeing her and ruining everything." He said as the women chatted amongst themselves.

"Yeah, Merlin forbid a Death Eater find her here, then we would have problems." Harry nodded, sniffing his firewhisky. "I could arrange a room for her with either Sirius, or maybe even Roger. Either way, I'll make sure she has a home until this is all over with."

"Good, I'll tell her tonight." Kylie nodded, finishing off his drink and pouring himself another. He swirled it in his glass, and looked over to the women—they were still discussing something funny, as they couldn't stop laughing.

"How many people know about your animagus ability?" Harry asked, quietly, making sure Tonks didn't overhear him.

"Just you and Queenie." Kylie answered, leaning close to Harry. "And presumably Tonks." He whispered, his eyes flicking over to the metamorphmagus.

"No," Harry shook his head in response to that assertion. "I haven't told anybody about you being an Animagus. Sirius questioned me about it once, asking who the person who became an animagus with me was and what their form was, but I never told him. No one else even has a clue about it."

"Why do you ask?" Kylie question, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You remember that task I said you might have to do for me?" Harry inquired, and then without waiting for an answer, he continued on. "Well, I think it's best if you move around while doing it in your animagus form. It would be a lot easier for you, and safer, too."

"Yeah, thanks." Kylie nodded, and then bit his lip. He sighed audibly, rubbed his forehead, and took a deep breath. "Harry, you're my best friend outside of Queenie." Harry moved to speak, but stopped when Kylie raised his hand. "No, no, don't tell me I'm your best friend, too, I know Cedric and Roger are—or Viktor? I never really did know which one it was."

"But we have grown closer over these troubling times," Harry conceded, his eyes fixed upon Kylie's, waiting for the man to continue on with his thoughts.

"Yes, we have." Kylie agreed, a joyful smile on his face. "Promise me that whatever happens to me, if anything ever happens to me, that both Queenie and my father will be taken care of. Promise me that you will protect my father and my wife as best as you can."

Harry raised an eyebrow and immediately nodded, wondering just where this was coming from. "You needn't have asked, friend. What you requested is a given in my eyes, but lets not dwell on that today. Instead, let's enjoy each other's company and enjoy the winter holiday."

Soon later, they had their dessert after that, and then enjoyed opening the gifts and presents that they had gotten for one another. Harry had received a novel written by Eccentrissa Frizzle that changed whenever she wrote a new story; it was a very expensive gift that most people couldn't afford. Eccentrissa was a popular novelist that wrote about various adventures in a magically enhanced muggle automobile that was able to travel anywhere it wanted to: it could fly, go under the water, go into space, and even shrink down to microscopic size. Tonks had received a clock that chimed every time Harry arrived or left their home or her parents were coming by. Kylie and his wife both got a set of charmed, sapphire paperweights that had the ability to communicate with each other's counterpart, allowing them to talk to each other no matter their location or distance between them.

Over all, everyone enjoyed their gifts immensely, as they were all thoughtful and special. After cleaning up the wrapping paper without magic, they all said their goodbyes and good wishes, and then Harry and Tonks disappeared in a flash of green flames, flooing back to their own house. Upon arriving, the couple had a nice, hot cup of tea as they each opened one gift that they had gotten for one another, a common practice that they had started their first Christmas together; they opened the majority of their presents on Christmas morning, but they each got to choose one, just one, that was under the tree to open the night before Christmas. They sat on a couch, staring into the fire once they were done, and immediately fell asleep, their stomachs full and hearts happy.

The next morning, the Tonks' and Sirius arrived earlier than the rest of the group that would be coming for the day's festivities, bringing so many gifts that they could barely fit under the large tree. Zeali hustled about, making sure the final touches of the decorations were put up and perfected. A long, wooden table that housed nearly twenty chairs was set up in the dinning room, plates and silverware on top of the silk green tablecloth that covered the wood. Christmas flowers of poinsettias, holiday cactus, and ivy and mistletoe littered the top of the table with their bright red colors, and when in conjuncture with the roaring fireplace, they created a sense of warmth that spread about the room.

The rest of the group began to arrive around ten o'clock, and all entered the house with bright and happy smiles on their faces. The cheer around the house seemed almost palpable, as if all the sadness and darkness that had engulfed their lives over the past few months had been washed away. The day began with a large breakfast; all twenty guests were laughing, drinking, and eating to their heart's content. Harry sat at one end of the table with Roger, Viktor, and Cedric to his right and left; Tonks and all of the women of the group at the other end; and in the middle were Sirius, Remus, Kingsley and Ted Tonks.

"I never got the chance to tell you before, but thanks for overseeing our businesses." Harry said, taking a bite out of the toast that he had just buttered. With a crunch, the bread crumbled in his mouth and he gave a smile, enjoying the taste. "Without you two, I think Cedric and I would have gone broke by now, and both of us would probably be living on Knockturn Alley."

"No problem, we're just glad that we could help with something." Roger replied, putting salt on his plate of eggs that he had just scooped out of the bowl. "We've felt so impotent during these last few months, almost useless. But we can't take all of the credit, Sirius helped out with it, too."

"Don't say that." Harry chastised, having loved, cherished, and respected all of their input and help when it came to the Order. Roger shrugged with a smile, dropping the subject. "So my old apartment building; was it as good of an investment as I thought it would be?"

Roger nodded, giving a small smirk. "It is in these times."

"What do you mean?" Harry questioned, curiously.

"Sirius came and put all of the defensive and protective charms he could on the place, its pretty protected." Roger answered, looking over at Harry. "People feel safe in there, so they moved in quickly; after all, since they live on Diagon Alley, if a Death Eater ever did attack, they'd have help right away with Aurors and Hitwizards and other magical folk being so close."

"So its full?" Harry questioned, somewhat surprised. He had never imagined that his idea would actually be a really good one. There were, after all, a good amount of apartments within the building itself, and when he lived there, he could never remember it being filled to capacity.

"Mostly, yeah." Roger replied, smiling. "An apartment or two is open, I think, but I haven't checked in a week." His eyes shifted over to Viktor, who was having a light conversation with Cedric, but had overheard the discussion that Harry and Roger were having. "Are those two apartments still open?"

"Yeah," Viktor agreed, adding, "One on the first floor that is right next to the entrance to Diagon Alley and your old flat, Harry."

Off to the side, Sirius excused himself from his conversation and tapped Harry on the shoulder once Roger had stopped talking. "Can I speak with you for a moment?" The older man questioned his godson, giving him a broad, mischievous smile. Harry nodded, rose from his chair and followed Sirius out of the room, an interested look upon his face.

They walked over to the doors that led into the first floor study and sitting room. Sirius grinned to Harry before throwing open the doors, allowing Harry entrance into the chamber. Hanging on the far-side wall was a large, cream-colored tapestry, with the name 'Potter' cursively written in blue ink at the top. Underneath, there were various names and dates listed, with lines drawn all around them, linking each to one another in some way. Around the tapestry was a boarder that looked like crashing waves of seawater in a rich, royal blue color that seemed to get brighter the darker it was in the room. The tapestry itself was quite big, covering nearly half of the wall; it was around seven feet tall and seven feet wide. Overall, it was a beautiful piece of work that had clearly taken a lot of effort to produce and make, and somehow seemed as if it was always meant to be in the room.

"Wow," Harry muttered, running his eyes over it from the door. "This is great, Sirius."

"I made one for myself, too. Left most of my ancestors out of it, keeping only the good people of my family—I also put the Hitchens and the Nigels in it. I've been spending a lot of time with Austrinus and Cepheus, and I met the rest of their family and the assorted wives and children. You know that girl that they were talking about? Lucida?" Sirius said, a happy smile on his face. "I met her…she is eerily cognizant for a seven month old. I can sense the power in her, and can't help but agree with them now about their statement that she's something special. Anyway," Sirius continued, not noticing that he was rambling. "We should get together with them some time. I'd…I'd enjoy that a lot."

"We will when Voldemort is destroyed." Harry answered, patting Sirius on the back. He knew the man craved family, craved for people to laugh with and cry with, having been ignored most of his life by his immediate family and then being locked up in Azkaban just a few days after his best friend was killed, he was clearly lonely most of his life. "It sounds like a lot of fun."

Sirius smiled and nodded, his cheer seemingly overwhelming him. "Well, Merry Christmas, Harry. I hope you like it."

"I do, its genius." Harry said, looking over to Sirius. "Thank you." They both made their way over to the tapestry to take a closer look. The dates went all the way back to fourteenth century, and seemed to incorporate twenty generations. At the top, the name that started it all was Bowman Wright—the metal charmer who had invented the snitch in the year 1356.

"Bowman Wright's daughter, Dryope Wright, married muggleborn Janus Potter, starting the Potter line." Sirius explained, tracing the lines with his right index finger. "They had a few sons; your branch, the only known surviving branch, hails from their last and youngest son named Emery." Sirius' finger scrolled over a few generations until it reached Charlus and Dorea Potter, and then he pointed to the name underneath. "Your father, and then you, see?" He grinned, sheepishly.

"What family did Dryope's mother, Bowman's wife Perpetua, come from?" Harry asked, wondering about Bowman's wife and if she was his link to the three brothers of the Deathly Hallows. He had been looking for that link the entire time Sirius was talking, but he couldn't find it or place it and couldn't help but wonder about it.

"There are rumors," Sirius whispered, almost as if what he was about to say had to stay a secret, hidden away from the world. "That Perpetua was the daughter of Ignotus Peverell, making you a Peverell in turn. It would work out," Sirius shrugged, his eyes lingering on the tree. "Because both Bowman, really the Wrights as a family too, and Ignotus Peverell were from Godric's Hollow, which is where the Potters are famously from. Plus, the Peverell name died out a long, long time ago; some even say it happened after Ignotus died, since he only had three daughters, and no male heirs to carry it on."

_Peverell_, Harry thought to himself, instinctively thinking to the half-destroyed golden ring that was in his study as he spoke. "This is amazing, Sirius. Thank you so much." Harry said slowly, gazing at the family tree that buzzed with the names of all his ancestors. "It means a lot to me."

"I know." Sirius replied, gripping Harry's shoulder. "When I get to the chance sometime next week, I'll look through my genealogy books that the Blacks had and see if I can prove you are a Peverell or not. If you want me to, I mean."

"Dumbledore believed I was." Harry told him, quietly, remembering the conversation the pair had had after Dumbledore destroyed the Horcrux ring. "He, himself, was related to them. Voldemort was too."

"Each hailing from a different daughter out of the three that Ignotus had, I would presume. Though, I happen to think that Perpetua was the only one who had children, being that no one that I know of, before now with Voldemort and Dumbledore, ever claimed the Peverell family as their ancestors." Sirius muttered to himself, looking over the tree as if he was solving some great problem. "It couldn't be any earlier than that, because I would have known about it when I was doing the research so I could make this. It could even be from the different Peverell brothers: there was Antioch Peverell, Cadmus Peverell, and the youngest and your rumored ancestor, Ignotus Peverell."

"The three brothers of the Deathly Hallows." Harry said, nodding with a small smile as the pieces fell into place of definiteness and vindicating all that Dumbledore had told him about both the Peverells and the Deathly Hallows. That ring, the ring with the Peverell coat of arms, or rather with the symbol for the Deathly Hollows, was the resurrection stone of Cadmus Peverell, handed down through the family line until it was Marvolo Gaunt's. The invisibility cloak that was his father's, and was now his, was the death-blocking cloak of Ignotus, handed down through the ages until it was finally in his hands. The Elder Wand, which was fashioned for Antioch Peverell, would have been passed down to Dumbledore, but it was stolen, taking it away from its rightful line of succession; that was until Dumbledore had won it back in that fateful duel against Grindelwald.

"Surely you don't believe in that, do you?" Sirius asked, his eyes flicking over to Harry. "That's just a fairy tale to teach children to mind their own business, don't go picking fights, leave stuff well alone and everything will be okay. I even heard it when I was a child, and I'm sure you would have heard it too if your parents hadn't died."

"My invisibility cloak is the one from the story." Harry replied, quickly lifting up his shirt, turning around, and allowing Sirius to see the image of the Deathly Hollows symbol that was on his back. It was small, barely the size of a bottle cap, and made of peach-skin color that made it almost unnoticeable; it was located on his right shoulder blade, as if it were a muggle tattoo. It was clearly a burn mark, rather than a purposeful design, that was engrained upon Harry's skin the first time he picked up the Elder Wand; it was a brand that the Deathstick bestowed upon its wielder, as if autonomously, presumably as it had done to the wizards and witches that had previously mastered the wand.

"I got it when Dumbledore died; the Elder Wand itself gave it to me." Harry explained, remembering that night in his workroom when the wand was buzzing in his desk. He couldn't help but touch the wand that night, the wand was calling out to him through his magic. "I have to hide it, though, because Viktor becomes flustered when he sees the symbol, being that it was Grindelwald's supposed mark and all—his grandfather was killed by him, along with a few other members of his family."

"The…the Elder Wand? You have it?" Sirius gasped, his eyes wide with shock. His gaze quickly shifted down to Harry's belt buckle, as if expecting the wand to be there. "But just the other day you said…"

"I lied." Harry told him, shrugging. "You know there's a spy in the Order; I couldn't tell everyone, or anyone for that matter, about me having the Elder Wand. It's my secret weapon against Voldemort, something that should stay hidden."

"This has me intrigued now." Sirius sighed, turning and walking over to the fireplace that was on the far wall. Harry followed him over, cocking an eyebrow, wondering what he was doing. "I want to see if I can find the Peverells in a book; I think I know just the one that would have it." Sirius explained before grabbing a handful of powder that was on the mantle, and then saying, "I'll be back in a minute." He threw the powder into the flames, called out his destination, and disappeared in a flash.

Harry threw his shirt back on just in time for the others to come into the room, each carrying a load of presents. Zeali, lagging behind the group, was carrying a large bowl of eggnog, which he placed on the coffee table that was in the room. Then, with a snap of his elfish fingers, an assortment of Christmas cookies appeared on a plate next to the eggnog. "Wow, where'd you get this?" Cedric questioned Harry, picking up a cookie and strolling over to the Potter tapestry that was hung up on the wall.

"Sirius made it for me." Harry smiled, coming up behind his best friend and examining the tapestry once again. "He's been making it for a few months, he said." The flames erupted again and Sirius appeared; he was carrying a large tome in his hands. "Speak of the devil." Harry laughed, as Sirius took a step out of the fireplace.

The man, noticing everyone had come into the room, put the book off to the side and went over to Remus as the werewolf scooped a few spoonfuls of eggnog into a cup. The pair went into a conversation of no great importance, watching as the rest of the attendees opened up a few of their presents and munched on the delicious cookies that Zeali had baked. Harry walked over to Lisa and Roger as the couple stared out the frost-covered window, looking out across the snow-covered land. They all stood silently as a small red fox ran across the panoramic, its small body barely hopping out of the thick snow. It stopped and sniffed the air, before scampering off into the woods, just as a snowflake fell from the sky.

"It's snowing!" Lisa yelled out, excitedly. She quickly ran over to the couch that housed her daughter, who was currently playing with Andromeda Tonks, and picked her up, bringing her over to the window to enjoy the snow just as the others took their place near the window as well.

Roger smiled at his young daughter, who was just eight months old, and kissed her cheek as Harmony giggled in her mother's arms. The entire group watched as the snow began to fall harder and harder, creating a sense of peacefulness and majesty for Christmas that was only seen in cards and advertisements. Tonks snuggled into Harry's shoulder as he put his arm around her, holding her close to his body. Cedric, meanwhile, instinctively pulled his hand away as it brushed against Gaetana's hand; it was the hand that Harry had created for him, the one he had grown to look at as a fake, a phony part to him, even if it resembled his real one exactly. She looked up at him with a small smile, and without thinking about it, took his hand in hers and held it tightly.

After a few minutes, they pried themselves away from the window, and began to open up the bundles of presents that were under the tree. Harmony, of course, had received the most presents with Harry, Viktor, and Cedric all getting numerous gifts for her, loving her as if she was their own daughter and making sure her first Christmas was memorable, even if she couldn't remember it herself. Her favorite item, it seemed, was a magical coloring book that came to life once someone had drawn an image on the pages: the image would move, dance around, and then return back to lifelessness after a few seconds. She giggled and cooed as Roger drew a snowman on the page, which did a spin and then twirled his silk top hat with a bow before going still again.

Everyone watched in amusement at the childish innocence that she displayed, knowing that the reason they were fighting Voldemort was so she and the rest of the children of the world could grow up in safety. "I miss getting together with you guys, you know, sitting around, talking and drinking some whiskey." Roger whispered, coming up behind Harry and Cedric as Harmony was whisked away by Lisa.

"We all do." Cedric muttered, sadly, a sudden feeling of disappointment washing over him. He hated how his youth, his friends' youth, and the golden years of his parents were being wasted, fighting off an evil, bigoted dark wizard. They all nodded, lost in that thought as they watched others enjoy Christmas, knowing that the darkest times were still in front of them.

Before long, it was three o'clock and with it came the Christmas dinner. Zeali had truly gone out of his way, as there were countless of meats, vegetables, and breads for them all to enjoy. It looked more like a Hogwarts feast than an intimate dinner for a small group of people. They all dug in with great excitement, filling themselves up with the delicious food. Afterwards, they went back to the study, and drank tea and coffee as they enjoyed their desserts.

As the night winded down, they all lined up for a picture to remember the day. With bright smiles on their faces, they all got in close to one another, husbands with their arms around their wives, and friends embracing one another as family. They all looked happy and full of joy, as if Voldemort wasn't out there, as if the last few months of darkness hadn't happened. Sirius, especially, having spent twenty years in Azkaban, was ecstatic, enjoying every passing minute of his first Christmas. As the flash went off, and their happy faces were frozen in time, who knew that for one of them, it would be their last Christmas ever.

AN: The Potter names mean something: the reason why the patriarch of the Potters is named Janus is because he is the Roman god of beginnings. So since he is the beginning of the magical Potter line, the name fits.

AN 2: Uh-oh, who is the one that's going to die? Any guesses? What about the traitor in the Order? Who do you think it is? Review and tell me who you think: if you get it right, I'll send you the next chapter sooner than the others will read it.


	30. The Death of a Friend

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm really finding it hard to have time to right, I apologize for the wait. As for the spy: it wasn't supposed to be a great secret; I made it obvious for a reason. And a Death Eater divulges information, what you guys think about Voldemort's plans?

S/N 2: Well, someone very important dies, which kick-starts Harry into action. As such, this story will only go on for another week to two weeks, which is going to be about five or six chapters. The end is near, that is for sure. I always envisioned this person dying, in fact, he was the one I knew from the start that would die. I feel bad, too, because I love his/her character, but it had to be done.

Chapter 30: The Death of a Friend

The holidays came and went, and a week after Christmas, the Order of the Phoenix was meeting once again, refreshed and renewed by the short break. Harry was sixth to arrive, as Cedric, Hermione, Sirius, Bill and Fred Weasley were already present when he walked down the basement stairs. They all said their greetings to each other, and waited patiently for the rest of the Order to appear; Sirius was writing something down on a piece of parchment, and Harry was enjoying a nice cup of tea that Dobby had just brought down for the meeting.

"Hey, Hermione, what was it that you wanted to tell me about? You remember, that day in the Ministry when you said you would tell me in private?" Harry asked, putting his teacup down on the table.

Hermione got up and moved to the seat across from him, looking around the rest of the table; her friends were the only ones there, so she had no problem revealing what it was she was about to say. "I…I left the Ministry for another position." She said, looking inquisitively at Harry's reaction. "I took the Transfiguration teaching job that Minerva offered me. You know, since she had to take over for Dumbledore and all."

"That's great!" Harry smiled enthusiastically, happy for her. "Is that why you were nervous that day? You're afraid that I'm going to say we need you too much in the Ministry, right?"

"Yeah." Hermione nodded with a small frown.

"Nonsense." Harry waved his hands to articulate his point. "We have Bode, Podmore, Kingsley, Tonks, myself, and even Tynan Davis there, don't worry about it; we have more than enough information." He said, then, realizing how that came out, he continued. "That's not to say that your Intel wasn't necessary, it was, but I'm confident we can make do without it."

"Thanks Harry." Hermione sighed, and then to lighten the mood, she said, "Have you thought about teaching? I'm sure there are countless of charms in that mind of yours that you could teach to the students of Hogwarts."

"Well," Harry replied, tapping his chin. "The charms I've invented aren't student friendly, or even safe," He laughed, "Plus, Flitwick will be there for another twenty years before he retires, so teaching really isn't an option for me right now. But if the Charms position or the Ravenclaw Head of House ever opens up, I'd be interested, sure. Anyway, Hogwarts reopens in a week, right? I'm glad, that school should never shut down ever again."

Just then, Kylie and Snape both tramped down into the basement; Snape's scowl was showing double its normal disdain, so Harry immediately knew something was wrong. "We have some bad news, Harry." Kylie said, jumping down the stairs two at a time. "Voldemort spoke today about your supposed search for Dumbledore's long lost brother." Kylie continued, uneasily, as he looked at Harry. Next to him, with his face sallow as ever, Severus Snape nodded in agreement, seemingly unsettled.

Harry gave a small, drawn out sigh, his eyes shifting around the relatively empty room as if searching for something or someone. "Well," He said, quietly, shaking his head slightly. "It looks like we have a traitor in our midst."

"Any idea on who is it?" Kylie questioned, a hint of curiosity and anger in his voice. He had his opinion on who the traitor was, and he could take a guess that Harry had that same idea. The fact that he was risking his life as a spy for the Order, and the Order itself was being spied upon, made him quiver in disgust; he hated the feeling, he hated knowing that the information he was getting was somehow making its way back to the Dark Lord.

Harry bit his lip, his gaze on the far wall; it was locked in a green, steely resolve that would put fear in most wizards and witches. "Yes." He replied, simply.

The rest of the Order came soon after that, and the meeting went without a hitch. Harry had studied who he thought the spy was the whole meeting, and was quite impressed with the person's ability to acquire information without anyone realizing they were divulging the information; the person studied reactions, studied the people around him to gain information that the Dark Lord could use. Harry had never noticed it before because he had given this person a chance to prove himself, and because he never divulged too much information to warrant such suspicion—he kept the secrets and important stuff to himself and his closest circle of friends. He didn't hide secrets to the extent that Dumbledore had done while he was alive, but he did know what to tell and who to tell it to.

"Harry?" Kylie said, tentatively, not wanting to disturb the man after the meeting had finished. It seemed as if Harry was in a distant world, a dimension of thoughts and imagination, whose only boundaries were the human mind.

"Yeah?" Harry questioned back, looking up at his friend.

"We're moving Tracey into Grimmauld Place today, remember?" Kylie told him, thinking correctly that it had slipped his mind.

"Of course," Harry nodded slowly, realizing that he had forgotten all about it. He gathered his things and shuffled out of the room with Kylie, and for the next few hours, made sure Tracey moved into Sirius' house without any problems. She would be living on the top floor, next to Sirius and above the Tonks', in a room that had previously been used for guests when Sirius was a child. He had spruced it up, making sure that it was a lot more friendly and accommodating than how his mother had decorated it over forty years ago: light colors and a lot of sunlight, instead of dark and dreary.

At the Order meeting the next day, Harry sat in his chair at the head of the table; his green eyes roamed over the unoccupied seats at the table. His mind wandered to his lasting search for the Horcruxes: he had been up late last night, searching for a hint of where one was, but he had come up with nothing. He shook those thoughts out of his head, he needed to focus on confronting the traitor: he would do it during the meeting.

He could hear the front door opening up above him, signifying that the rest of the Order was arriving for the meeting. Tynan Davis had just walked into the house as his sister, Tracey, came running down the stairs to grab something to eat. "Tracey!" Tynan gasped, confusedly; then, after a second, his features turned into an ugly scowl. "What are you doing here?" He asked with an angry hiss that seemed to spew venom.

"Tynan?" Tracey said in a slight lisp, somewhat fearfully. The front door opened up behind Tynan, and Despereaux walked in, his eyes immediately falling onto Tracey. She was a short and thin woman, with short black and brown-mixed hair and kind brown eyes.

"Am I interrupting something?" Despereaux asked, feeling as if a conversation was interrupted with his entering the house.

"No," Tracey responded, moving her gaze over to Despereaux; their eyes locked with one another and she gave a small smile that made Despereaux smile in return. "I am Tracey Davis."

"Charmed to meet you." Despereaux moved to shake her hand; he could see she was trembling slightly, scared of something. "I'm Despereaux Barnaud."

"How cute." Tynan growled, stepping in front of Despereaux, preventing him from seeing Tracey any further. "Tracey, we'll talk about this later, but we have a meeting to get to, don't we, Despereaux?"

"Ah, yeah." Despereaux nodded, heading over to the door that led to the basement. They both quietly made their way down the stairs; Despereaux cocked an eyebrow at the angry glances that Tynan was throwing his way, confused by the sudden aggression the man was showing. Sirius greeted them warmly, and gestured to two of the seats in the middle of the table; both of which they respectively took. Three more members took their seats right after that, leaving only a few more open.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, tiredly, as his eyes zeroed in on the traitor. He gave the man a small smile, not wanting to arouse any sort of suspicion. After a few more minutes of silence, and the last of the Order members appearing, Harry rose from his seat; he was holding his wand beneath his royal blue sweatshirt, hiding it from view. "Welcome," He said, his voice carrying around the room: it was hard and loud, unlike his normal tone. "All of you. As you know, the Order of Phoenix is based around trust and courage; we fight so other people don't have to. We make sure that our lives are filled with peace and light, not darkness and decay like the lives of the Death Eaters."

He started to pace around the table, before stopping next to Sirius. "Guard the fireplace." He whispered into his godfather's ear. Nodding, Sirius arose from his chair, and marched over to the fireplace in the corner, standing in front of it threateningly with his wand at the ready. Coming up to Bill Weasley, Harry then whispered, "Guard the door." Again, like Sirius, Bill walked over to the door that led to the upstairs and stood in front of it. By this time, the other members looked around at what was happening, their expressions curious and some were even fearful. Finally, coming to Cedric, Harry murmured, "Double the disapparation protection."

Cedric bounced up from his seat, whipped out his wand and said, "Nullevanesco!" And, like a rush of wind, a heat haze ran around the room, preventing anybody from disapparating within the room.

"But," Harry continued, "What happens when that trust is broken? When we have a traitor in the group? A rat." He sneered, his eyes swiveling all about, circling the members sitting in their chairs. There was an audible gasp, and the members started to stare at each other, questioningly, wondering who it was; panic immediately set in, and they all began to suspect one another, eying the people sitting next to them. "I gave this man the benefit of the doubt, I gave him a chance to prove that he wasn't the person his sister said he was."

Instantly, Tynan Davis jumped up from his chair, yanked his wand from his robes, and inched back towards the wall; his eyes open and alert. Quickly, he spied the door: blocked. Then his gaze went over to the fireplace: guarded. And, having heard the anti-apparation jinx, he knew he couldn't apparate away. Just as the others were reacting, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a quill. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Sprung," and just as the portkey was being activated, it was summoned out of his hands by Harry, who ducked as it whizzed towards him, not wanting to go wherever it was going to go to. "You mudblooded cretin!" He screamed, throwing a killing curse at Harry; who dodged, and watched as the man was hit with no less than three stunners. His body fell to the floor with a thump, unconscious, being hovered above by members of the Order.

"Wow, I did not see that coming." George Weasley muttered in a hushed tone. It was impossible to tell if he was serious or just bringing some comedy to the situation. "I thought he was an okay bloke."

"I didn't think he'd attempt to kill you, Harry." Kylie said, shaking his head. He had figured that Tynan would see he was out numbered and just give up, he never expected what had actually happened.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, shrugging. "I doubt he actually wanted anyone dead; if he did, he would have went after the people who were closest to him, rather than me." He bent down and picked up Tynan's wand, examining it. It was an average oak wand that seemed to not have performed any great types of magic: just like Tynan, an average wizard, but a superb actor and liar. "You all can go. I'll bring Tynan to the Ministry for trial myself."

Most of the members nodded and filed out—a look of complete bewilderment was on their features, and they appeared as if they had questions that they wanted to ask but didn't know how to ask them. Harry waited until they all left, and when it was just Sirius and him still in the room, he swished his wand over Tynan's body, tying him up, and then rennervated him back to consciousness. The wizard groggily opened his eyes, and after giving the room a quick once over, he turned his gaze to Harry. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

"I'm not going to talk." Tynan responded, though it wasn't in a bitter or angry tone. He was calm and collected, as if he had been prepared for this for a long time.

"Its okay," Harry said with a shrug, looking over to Sirius and giving out a small laugh. "You don't need to." His green gaze made contact with Tynan's eyes, and he immediately entered the man's mind: images popped into Harry's head, memories of a life that wasn't Harry's. But then, suddenly, he was pushed out, rather harshly, Tynan clearly having some knowledge of the mind arts. "Who taught you occlumency?" Harry questioned, interestedly, wondering how the mediocre wizard was able to learn such powerful and relatively unknown magic.

"Bellatrix Lestrange." Tynan answered as a bead of sweat rushed off of his brow. He had struggled to force Harry out, really only having passive occlumency skills that could get him by normal conversations, not brutal interrogations.

"Figures." Harry muttered, looking over to Sirius who growled a bit at the mentioning of Bellatrix's name. He still had not gotten over the fact that the witch had tortured Regulus, had hurt his brother like she did. Regulus' portrait rarely talked about it, but Sirius knew that it had put him in a lot more pain than he made it out to be. "Well, unfortunately for you, Tynan, she only taught you how to force less powerful wizards out of your mind, and didn't bother teaching you how to lie with your thoughts: I'm more powerful and you won't be able to lie to me, so that's really too bad for you."

Harry again made eye contact, and quickly subdued Tynan's attempts to force him out. Memories flooded Harry's mind, and after searching through some of them and seeing nothing, he pulled out. "What is it?" Sirius questioned, wondering what had happened.

"He knows nothing." Harry sighed, clearly disappointed. He had hoped to gain a piece of Voldemort's plans, what it was that he was up to and what he was planning for the future, but unfortunately, Tynan had no information for him. "Voldemort didn't tell him anything; instead, all he did was report what he found out about the Order."

"No!" Tynan yelled. "I was important. He promised to tell me everything when you were gone and purebloods ruled."

"That's what he tells everybody." Sirius murmured, disinterestedly.

"I know that, you fool, but I was special. He would have told me sooner or later." Tynan said, believing that it was true.

Harry shook his head, picked up a butterbeer cap that was on the table to his left and grabbed his wand. He whispered "Portus," and turned the cap into a portkey that would take him and Tynan to the Ministry. "Lets go." After placing his hand on the back of Tynan's clothes, they disappeared with a pull behind their naval. Once they left, Sirius turned and walked up stairs, wondering what everyone else was doing.

Draco Malfoy woke up at nine o'clock on the morning of December the 30th. He took a shower, got dressed and ready for the day, and then went down stairs to make himself a breakfast. After reading the paper, eating some eggs, and drinking some orange juice, he looked down at his watch and sighed. Rising from his wicker chair, he threw on a cloak and apparated out, appearing in Diagon Alley almost instantly. His cold gray eyes roamed over the patrons, searching, looking for something or someone. _There has to be someone, some Order member around here,_ he thought to himself, his eyes frantically moving over the Alley. They stopped and narrowed on a witch, one that he thought he recognized as his cousin, Nymphadora.

He paced slowly towards her; he could see that her wand was held tightly under her robes as she stood guard, clearly doing her duties as an Auror. He got within ten feet of her before she finally saw him, her eyes going wide with shock. He put up his hands, showing that his wand was not at the ready and that he just wanted to talk to her. "You dare come here, Malfoy? I could have you sent to Azkaban."

"Please, hear me out. I'm begging you. I need Potter…I need to talk to him." Draco pleaded, his voice crackling.

Nymphadora played with her wedding ring that was on her hand, twisting it slowly as she stared Draco down. She noticed that another Auror named Proudfoot was looking towards her like he thought something was up, but she shook her head to him, and he gave a curt nod and walked the other way. A few more seconds passed before Harry appeared behind Malfoy; he was wearing his crimson Hitwizard robes, clearly having been on duty before he arrived. "What is it, Nymphie?" Harry questioned, not seeing Draco.

"Potter." Malfoy said, turning around and facing Harry.

Harry's eyes widened for a second, but he did not react other than that. He shifted his gaze back to Nymphadora for a moment, and she just shrugged in response, having nothing to say. "Draco, what are you doing here?' Harry asked, evenly, showing no emotion whatsoever.

"I need your help." Draco replied, eagerly. "The Dark Lord is coming after me. I need the protection that…your people," Draco sneered, although he tried to mask it, knowing that it wouldn't help his cause. "Can give me."

Harry nodded and bit his lip, inwardly giddy at the prospect of gaining more information about Voldemort's actions. He knew that Draco would have some knowledge in his brain, and would be more than willing to make a deal with the Order. Nymphadora had a skeptical look on her heart-shaped face, but she stayed silent, knowing that Harry would do what was best for both the Order and the wizarding world as a whole. He took out his wand and gave it a swish, a silver stag appearing briefly before disappearing away.

"Harry? Are you sure about this?" Tonks questioned, taking a step towards her husband.

"I know what I'm doing, Nymphadora." Harry whispered, kissing her on the side of the head. He could see she was both worried and angered by even the thought of helping out Draco Malfoy, her cousin, but he saw no other option. They couldn't just let him die, could they? And if they did do that, how would that make them any better than the Death Eaters that they were fighting against? There was a difference between killing during a battle and cold-blooded murder, and Harry wasn't about to cross that line.

Sirius arrived with a pop a minute later, his eyes locking immediately on Malfoy. "Are we positive this will help us?" Sirius questioned Harry, quietly, as Draco looked on with his silvery gaze.

"I have a plan." Harry nodded, knowing that this would be their best option to learn more about Voldemort. Tynan Davis had told them nothing, and they were beginning to worry about the Dark Lord's lack of action that had overcome the country lately. Sirius reached into his pocket and took out a piece of parchment with the location of the head quarters written on the middle of it. He handed it over to Harry, and Harry looked over to Draco. "Remember this location, Malfoy."

Malfoy looked down at the parchment that Harry was holding, reading the location and memorizing it. After about a minute, Harry took it away and gave it back to Sirius, who promptly destroyed it by fire. Harry then grabbed Draco's cloak and disapparated them both away, Sirius following right behind him.

They arrived outside of Grimmauld Place, Malfoy ripping his arm from Harry's grasp when his feet were firmly planted on the ground. "Don't touch me, Potter." He spat at Harry, making the other wizard just roll his eyes.

Sirius growled and grabbed at his wand. "I will have you gift wrapped and sent to the Ministry quicker than you could say Merlin, Malfoy, so watch your tongue." They all entered the house, Sirius locking the door after it closed with a swish of his wand.

Harry led the way downstairs, where a group of Order members were eating lunch and having a spot of tea. Many of the members who worked at the Ministry would come by Grimmauld place for lunch, where Dobby always made a delicious meal. They all gasped when they saw Malfoy, their eyes wide with shock and confusion. "What the…?" Kingsley Shacklebolt gasped, putting his sandwich back down on his plate.

"What is Malfoy doing here?" Kylie asked, his voice uneasy. The palm of his hand began to get sweaty, and his throat was all the sudden dry, nerves undeniably overtaking him. He did not know why Malfoy was here or what the man would say, but for some reason, he couldn't help but be nervous by his presence. He took a deep breath to get a hold of himself, realizing that he had nothing to hide and Malfoy posed no real threat to the safety and sanctity of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Apparently, Draco wants to bargain with us." Harry said, taking his seat at the head of the table.

"Bargain?" Bill Weasley sneered, his eyes zeroing on Malfoy. "I say we throw him to the wolves of Azkaban, I'm sure they're hungry for him."

"I concur." Shacklebolt agreed, wiping his hands and mouth with his napkin.

"No, don't….I have information." Malfoy said gruffly, hoping they were just playing with him, having a laugh at his expense.

"You know nothing, Draco." Roger mocked, knowing that the only way to get real information out of Malfoy was to make him believe they didn't care about his well-being.

"Harry," Shacklebolt began, looking over to the wizard. "Take him to Azkaban for holding. I'll make sure that the Wizengamot is in to try him for his crimes."

"Please, I'll tell you anything you want. You want names? I got names: there's Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Stephen Cornfoot, Marcus Flint." Draco all but yelled, and then upon seeing their unimpressed faces, continued on with his naming of Death Eaters. "Not good enough? There's also Cade Warrington, Graham Montague, and Theodore Nott."

"You're just naming your Hogwarts friends, Malfoy. You're telling us nothing." Kylie hissed with venom, clearly not amused. He rolled his eyes underneath his hood at the names, a feeling of disgust bubbling inside of him: he knew Draco would name him sooner or later.

"No, no, Pansy Parkinson is one, too." Draco begged, realizing that he was running out of names. His eyes wiped around the room, looking at everyone that was staring right back at him. "You want the Dark Lord's plans? I know what his intentions are, what his Death Eaters are doing for him right as we speak." Draco could tell, this time, that he had struck gold.

"Indeed, then, let's hear it, Draco." Harry said in a calm tone, though one could tell that he was masking his delight.

"First, you have to promise me and my family sanctuary." Draco bargained, knowing that he finally had a piece of information that they would be able to use.

"That will be arranged, Draco." Harry replied, again in a calm tone.

"Second, if and when this is over, the Malfoy name will not be brought about in any Ministry talk; we will not be tried for being Death Eaters."

"Understood." Harry nodded, taking a mental note of Draco's request. "The information now, Draco."

"He's after Hogwarts." Draco muttered, almost flippantly, as if he didn't really care since he had already gotten what he wanted and needed. "He's sent out all of his high-level Death Eaters for a specific reason that will help him capture the school. Peter Pettigrew was sent out a month ago to infiltrate the school and find out all that he could about the wards surrounding the grounds. Macnair has been gathering dark creatures for the attack, and will be leading them through the Forbidden Forest. And to top it all off, the reason why the Dark Lord is after the Elder wand is so he can destroy the gates of Hogwarts with it: he thinks that wand alone would give him the ability and powers to overcome the Founders' magicks."

"When is this going to happen?" Roger questioned, horrorstruck by the thought of Hogwarts being attacked…again.

"The only ones that know that information are the Dark Lord himself, Bellatrix Lestrange, Barty Crouch, and Quirrell." Draco replied, holding himself proudly. "He hasn't even told my father when the date is."

"Is that it?" Harry asked, evenly.

Draco looked around at everybody, and with cold gray eyes gave a nod, "Yes."

"Very well," Harry said, squinting a bit at Draco. "Roger, could you take Draco out of the room while we deliberate about this unexpected event?"

"Of course." Roger grunted, then whistled for Draco to follow. They went up the stairs and entered the kitchen, Roger taking a seat at the small table while Draco leaned against the far wall, next to the oven. They silently waited for Harry to call them back, both not even looking at the other: when Roger and Draco were in Hogwarts, Malfoy had hated Roger just because of his association with Harry.

"YOU! You have some nerve showing your face around me." Lilyre Moon yelled, running into the room from the foyer. He tackled Draco down to the ground, curled his fist up and slugged Malfoy straight in the chin. Emotion was pouring out of him, both rage and pain coming to the surface, bottled up feelings rising to the top.

"He's not worth it, Lilyre. Don't lower yourself to his level, show Malfoy that you're better than him." Wayne Hopkins said as he ran in the room from where Lilyre just was. Roger, meanwhile, gave a smile at the sight, enjoying the fact that Malfoy was getting what had been coming for him for the his past mistakes.

"You're right," Lilyre said, spitting down at the floor, though it did not touch Draco's body. "He can live in the misery of being a two-bit wizard with no real skill to speak of."

Just then, Severus Snape rushed into the kitchen, his eyes immediately falling upon Draco. "Come, Draco." Snape said, bitterly. Draco cocked an eyebrow at Snape, but followed him silently as they walked back down to the meeting room. "Potter, explain." Snape snapped, forcing Harry to turn his attention to the potions master.

"What is there to explain, Severus?" Harry questioned, easily. "Draco came to us this morning asking for help; we offered to help him in exchange for some information."

"Is this true, Draco?" Snape asked, looking at the blond-haired man. Malfoy nodded his head slightly, and Snape growled. "What did you tell them?"

"He told us what Voldemort plans on doing, isn't that right, Draco?" Harry replied, a broad smile rising upon his face.

"I told them what I needed to in order to secure my safety, Severus." Draco muttered, seeing the scowl that was on Snape's face. "You would do the same, would you not?"

Snape stared at Draco, and Malfoy immediately regretted what he had said. Would Snape kill him in the name of the Dark Lord? Snape was, after all in the opinion of Malfoy, a loyal Death Eater. "I hope the information was worth it, Potter." Snape said, giving Harry a slight and unnoticeable nod that only Harry could see. Then, turning around, he left up the stairs with a confused Draco Malfoy walking in his wake.

"Do we trust what Malfoy said?" Kingsley questioned the group.

"We really have no other options." Bill Weasley answered, looking over at Harry who was staring at the far wall in thought. The group disbanded an hour later, all retreating to their homes for a nice, peaceful dinner with their families. Draco, meanwhile, stayed with Snape at Spinner's End, hiding out there while other arrangements were made by the Order of the Phoenix.

Later that night, Harry threw the book he was reading, it was old and dingy with yellowed pages, against the wall: it slammed against it and slipped down to the ground, sprawled open. Angrily, he pushed everything on his desk to the floor, sighing afterwards, and then threw his head into his arms. He had been spending hours, days trying to find information on Rowena Ravenclaw's tiara, but the books he read only gave a passing mention of it. They didn't show pictures or even tell of its history, what it was, where she got it, those kinds of things. He closed his eyes, trying to think, his mind racing, a headache starting to form. "Ravenclaw common room." He whispered, falling asleep with his head on the desk.

Harry walked through the halls of Hogwarts the next day, his destination being the Ravenclaw tower. He smiled, remembering his days as Hogwarts, how many times he had walked into the Ravenclaw common room after a long, hard day of classes. How many times had he walked in late a night from rounds, with the common room deserted, and just watched the fire burn till the wee hours of the morning. He came to a spiral staircase, and he climbed up it, in tight, dizzying circles, until at last he reached a door. There was no handle and no keyhole: nothing but a plain brown expanse of aged wood, and an eagle-shaped bronze knocker that hung in the center of the door.

He usually didn't come this way, having found another way into the common room during his fourth year: it was a doorway behind a bookshelf on the fourth floor, hidden in a small, shadowy hallway. The idea of the hidden entryway was the basis for the spells and wards he had put on his hidden workshop, blocked from view by a bookcase, with the key being a book. To get into the common room through the secret passage, all you had to was pull on the 'Hogwarts, A History' tome, and the bookshelf would sink into the ground, opening up a small walkway on the steps leading up to the boy's dormitory. It was much quicker than using the main entrance, and certainly unknown, with Harry and Roger being the only ones who knew about it. Unknown that it was, it wasn't even on the Marauder's Map, which had almost every other secret passage and entranceway in all of Hogwarts.

Harry reached out his hand to the knocker, and knocked once, taking a step back and looking up to the eagle, expectantly. Then, at once, the beak of the eagle opened, and, instead of a bird's call, a soft, musical voice said, as if she was singing, "Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?"

Harry grinned, having gotten this question once before, long ago, during his second year. It had taken nearly ten minutes of thinking, and a whole line of kids wanting to get in behind him to figure it out, but he got it right on the first try. In fact, so engulfed was he to answer it that he refused the older students to answer for him, instead making them wait behind him, impatiently. "The circle has no beginning, it just exists."

"Well reasoned." The voice answered, the door swinging open as a result. In he stepped, his smile from before gone, and in its place were furrowed brows and pursed lips. His green eyes were locked in a steely, concentrated gaze that shifted around the room, searching for the artifact of his desires.

The Ravenclaw common room was a wide, circular room, airier than most rooms at Hogwarts. Graceful arched windows punctuated the walls, which were hung with blue-and-bronze silks: by day, the Ravenclaws had a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and by night, they had a beautiful view of the moon. The ceiling was a dome and painted with stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. There were tables, chairs, and bookcases, and in a niche opposite the door stood a tall statue of white marble: Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the founders of Hogwarts.

He stared up at the marble woman, and she seemed to look back at him with a curious gaze and half smile on her face, beautiful yet slightly intimidating. On top of her head, a delicate-looking circle made of marble laid, a replica of the diadem she had once worn when she was alive. Teeny, tiny words were etched into it, saying, "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." Looking up at the tiara, at the diadem, staring at it, studying it, something clicked: he had seen it before, the real thing. He closed his eyes, wanting, needing to remember where it was. Was it just memories of seeing the statue when he was in Hogwarts? Was that it? Was that what was causing his nostalgia, his mind telling him that he had seen it before?

With his eyes closed, all he could see was pictures of Nymphadora, which would then flash to pictures of the statue: he was young, the first time seeing the statue as an eleven year old, brand new to Hogwarts and the wizarding world. Then it flashed back to Nymphadora, smiling, grinning, and laughing in all of her beauty. What, what was it telling him? Again the statue, then Nymphadora, back to the statue, a circle of images. Then an image of Nymphadora, beautiful as ever in her wedding dress, on their wedding day, and that's when it hit, the reason why her pretty face was in his mind: the tiara she was wearing at their wedding.

Surely they, the side of light, couldn't be so lucky, could they? Surely he was mistaken; surely it was a replica, not real. But if not, how could he be so dumb, so stupid? Two Horcruxes had been right in front of him this whole time, and he didn't even notice them; like an amateur detective, overlooking the most obvious things, searching for something deeper. He rushed out of the common room, using an exit that he alone had found, out of Hogwarts, past the gates, and apparated away, to Grimmauld place.

He arrived in the apparation point of the house, and rushed to where he heard voices: it was a little after midday, lunchtime. He slipped up the stairs and into Andromeda and Ted's room, quickly rummaging through the closet where he knew the tiara was hidden, locked away from being stolen. After finding it, he nicked it and closed the closet door, holding the diadem tightly in his hands as he ran down the stairs and into the drawing room, where Nymphadora, Andromeda, and Gaetana were sitting down, talking about nothing in particular.

"Harry!" Tonks said, brightly. She looked him over, noticing his curious looking face and the tiara in his hand. "Something wrong?" She questioned, somewhat nervously.

"No," He smiled, and then turned his attention to Andromeda, holding the tiara out in front of her. "When did you get this?" Harry asked with hardness to his voice that Andromeda had never heard before. Usually, his voice was calm and full of love, but it was changed now for some reason. "When was it forged?"

"When I was in my fifth year at Hogwarts." Andromeda answered, hoping to help the wizard any way she could. By the tone of his voice, and the furrow of his brow, she knew it was something serious; something that he had been working on or for. "I don't know when it was made, but Burke said it was pretty old."

"You got it at Borgin and Burkes?" Harry inquired, his green gaze still fixated on the tiara. _Riddle worked at Borgin and Burkes after graduating from Hogwarts_, Harry reminded himself, _that's how he got the cup of Hufflepuff and the locket of Slytherin; perhaps he came across it, did his magic to it, then gave it back to Borgin and Burke, never telling them what it truly was_.

"Yes," Andromeda answered, confused. "Why?"

"He put it back into circulation." Harry muttered to himself, a hint of laughter in his tone. He tossed the tiara into the air, sending a blasting curse at it. As he suspected, the tiara was thrown into the wall, where it crashed to the floor, perfectly fine. "Unbreakable. And the magic is almost impossible to detect. Crafty. He thought that it would be safe since it's impossible to destroy, and almost no one knows about Horcruxes, let alone knowing how to tell if an item was one. So if anyone did find out about his secret, this one would be safe; impossible to locate due to it being sold off and taken into the distance."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Andromeda inquired, confusedly looking at him as if he had two heads.

"This is," Harry said, picking the tiara up and holding it out for her to see. "Rowena Ravenclaw's, and it was once owned by Voldemort, before he gave it back to Borgin and Burke. It holds something; something which is important to him and his power." He flicked his eyes over to Gaetana and Tonks, who were standing behind her mother. "Can I have this?" He questioned to no one in particular, knowing that it was technically his as Nymphadora and him shared everything they owned. He flicked his wand out, wrapping the tiara in a wool cloth. Seeing their nods, he grinned, and turned out of the room, going to his house, his home, intent on finding a way to destroy the Horcrux without destroying the tiara; after all, it was a family heirloom now.

Reaching his library, he pulled on the parseltongue book that would grant him access to his secret room, and entered the workshop. He placed the tiara down on one of the desks, and turned to the small bookshelf that housed his darkest, most powerful, and most ancient tomes that he had gotten from Dumbledore, bought from different shops around the world, or stolen from various dark wizards. One interested him the most on this day, however: it was a potion book written completely in parseltongue that had potions that could peel back layers of magic on an item. He never used it before, and doubted it would work, but it was worth a shot. The magic was incredibly difficult, the ingredients were amazingly rare, and the spells were unbelievably hard, but he knew if he tried, he could go through with it and perhaps save a priceless artifact from certain destruction just as what had befallen Slytherin's locket.

He flipped through the pages, scrutinizing the small, black writing that seemed as if it was gibberish with its hisses and grunts. Then, coming to the potion that he was searching for, he flicked on all the lights, wanting and needing to see it properly. "Basilisk venom!" He yelled out, shocked at the absurdity of the ingredients. "How in the name of Merlin am I going to get that? Wait, no, I could use Acromantula venom, too. But how…the Forbidden Forest! There were rumors that a colony of them lived there." He said, out loud, talking to himself. Then, running his finger down the rest of the page, he checked off everything that he would need, having no doubt that he could get the rest.

Leaving his house, he apparated away to a spot next to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Pulling his cloak closer to him, he tried to keep the cold, crisp winter air from chilling him as he walked towards the gates of Hogwarts. He neared the metal gates, with its two pillars of winged-boars on both sides, guarding the school. He took out his wand, and a silver stag erupted out of its tip, galloping past the gates, heading straight for a hut that was on the edge of school grounds.

A few minutes later, Hagrid came stomping out of his home, a smile on his face, masked by his enormous, brown and gray beard. "Harry!" Hagrid yelled, enthusiastically. The half-giant reached down and opened the gates with his huge hands, allowing Harry access to the grounds. "What brings you back to Hogwarts so quickly? I thought you jus' left."

"Yeah, I did." Harry nodded, disinterestedly. He liked Hagrid, he did, but he had more important things on his mind than idle small talk that Hagrid seemed to love so much. "But I have some business to attend to in the Forbidden Forest."

"Forbidden Forest, you say?" Hagrid replied, uneasily. "I should go with you, Harry; there are dark, dangerous things in that forest, there are."

Harry waved it off, not wanting the man to know what it was that he was doing. "No, Hagrid, I'll be fine, don't worry." He headed towards the forest, but stopped, turning and giving Hagrid a smile. "Thanks, though. I'll see you!"

It was dark. Even with the midday sun beaming above, the high trees of the forest all but shadowed out the light, creating a creepy and cold atmosphere, completely devoid bright sunshine; in turn, at night, the moonlight would be cancelled out, as well. With his wand tip lit, he walked deeper into the woods, his eyes searching, and his ears listening. There was an incredibly loud bark that echoed around the forest, running through the leaves like a spring breeze; almost immediately after, there was an unmistakable noise of trees falling to the ground in the distance, uprooted by some incredibly powerful force. Then, to his side, he saw a unicorn come galloping past, glowing like fresh snow on a winter's day. He watched, fascinated, as the horse-like creature, so beautiful and majestic and pure, streaked passed, it's golden hooves creating a light that even the sun would be hard pressed to match.

Shaking his head, he moved the opposite way of the unicorn, going further into the trees. There was a clicking nose a little ahead of him, and he pointed his wand, hoping to get a better look at what it was. There, twenty feet away, was a big, hairy spider, about the size of a large dog: it was clearly young, as most Acromantulas grew to eight feet. He took a step forward, but out of the darkness came a brilliant silver lynx, appearing from seemingly nowhere. "Harry," Kingsley's voice carried from the lynx's mouth; the beast rushed towards the man, hopping over the Acromantula and stopping right in front of the wizard. "Voldemort's attacking Hogsmeade!"

Through the dense forest, he had not heard the explosions going off in the distance. He turned and quickly sprinted deeper into the forest, his wand at the ready, searching for the point where he could disapparate. After five minutes of further running, he finally reached the boarder of the wards and with a loud crack, he disappeared from the forest.

Harry arrived just as Aurors and Hitwizards did; the Order of Phoenix was seemingly the only ones fighting back against the Death Eaters, as many of the residents of Hogsmeade were running for their lives.

Neville Longbottom arrived at the same time as Harry. He scanned the battlefield for a second before seeing a wizard fall to a Death Eater by a jet of yellow light, and he ran that way, ready to fight the Death Eater. He threw a curse at the dark wizard's body, and in response, the wizard dodged and tilted his head at Neville. "I won't fight you, Longbottom." He said through his mask. Then, with a swish of his black robes, he disapparated away, leaving Neville confused once again as he recognized that voice as Rabastan Lestrange.

Harry, meanwhile, had immediately made his presence known by throwing a powerful hex towards a group of Death Eaters. They all seemed to have been stricken with vertigo, as they stumbled forward, their heads bobbling on their shoulders. "Retreat!" A voice called out through the darkness, enhanced by magic: the Death Eaters were becoming overwhelmed, their number advantage steadily dwindling when the townspeople of Hogsmeade had started to come out of their homes and fight back.

Most of the Death Eaters disapparated, not wanting to be caught—though the more powerful ones stayed, unable or unwilling to retreat. One such Death Eater, Augustus Rookwood, was dueling Roger, his attacks missing the wizard by mere feet. Roger sent a blasting hex at the Death Eater, then rolled off to the side and sent another hex at the wizard; it sailed above Rookwood's head, missing him by sheer inches. Not hesitating the least bit, Roger continued his assault, sending out a jinx, followed then by a stunner.

Rookwood ducked under Roger's attack, jabbing his wand out at the same time, releasing a killing curse. The curse lit up the darkened shadowed spot they were dueling at, illuminating the ground with its eerie green light. It soared, swiftly, at the unprepared Roger, descending upon him like some big, angry beast. It neared, now just five feet away. Then it connected with him, hitting him square in the chest, his eyes wide with surprise.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Roger's body arched through the air, his face still handsome as his heart stopped beating. His body landed on the ground with a thud—it was cold, pale, and stiff. Rookwood had a look of glee on his face as he disapparated, giving a mocking wave to the Order members that were running towards him, brandishing their wands in anger. Hermione was the first to his body, as she slid down next to him, hoping, praying that it was all just a joke—that he'd wake up anytime now.

Harry, Cedric, and Viktor all rushed towards Roger, stunning or hurting any Death Eater, any dark wizard that got in their way. Finally, they reached him: Hermione was crying, curled around his sleeping-like form. He was still, his hazel eyes were still open though they lacked the spark of life they normally had. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't be. He would never see his daughter, his beautiful daughter who wasn't even a year old yet, grow up. He wouldn't see her leave on the Hogwarts express to go to Hogwarts for the very first time. He wouldn't be able to witness her birthdays, her achievements, nor her accomplishments. And she, on the other side of the spectrum, would never know how much her father, her dad, loved her, how much he cared about her. Roger Davies, one of Harry's best friends, one of his closest friends, and his very first friend was dead, gone from this world.

Rage filled Harry: disturbing, undeniable rage. And, looking into the eyes of Viktor and Cedric as they stared down at Roger's cold and lifeless body, he knew they were feeling the same way, thinking the same thing: Rookwood would pay for this with his life. He didn't know when Rookwood would get what was coming to him, but he did have a vague idea on how it would come. It would come slowly and painfully, and Rookwood would scream his throat dry. Oh, how Augustus Rookwood would pay.

Viktor pulled Hermione up off of her feet, wrapping his arms around her, not meeting Roger's body: unable to, for the tears, the pain was welling up inside of him, getting ready to consume him in undeniable grief. Cedric, meanwhile, lifted Roger's body up into his arms and apparated away with it, not wanting his best friend's body to be in the cold snowy mud any longer. Finally, unable to control it, Harry gripped his wand so tightly that his hand turned white, whipped it around, and let out a primal scream of fury, releasing a wave of purple energy that rushed into the air, before exploding outwards like muggle fireworks.

"AH!" He yelled out in intense anger, everyone who had gathered around having their eyes solely on him. He turned around, not wanting people to see him, and then apparated away, his shoulders slumped. His mind couldn't help but think of all the ways that Augustus Rookwood, Death Eater of Voldemort, former high-level Unspeakable for the Ministry, would pay for killing Roger Davies.

AN: Poor Roger, but don't worry, Rookwood should be scared because Harry is coming for him…and he's pissed!

AN: The etymology of the spells in this chapter.

Nullevanesco- it is the anti-disapparation jinx, and prevents anyone from apparating in the radius that it was cast upon. Null means to cancel, and Evanesco is Latin for disappear. I don't remember if I created it, or if someone else did, as I couldn't find it in any of the books.

Sprung- it's initiates a pre-determined and made port-key. Sprung is jump in German.


	31. When You Were There

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: How will Harry react to the death of his oldest friend? Find out in this chapter. Trust me when I say that Harry will be a changed man after this, a motivated man.

S/N 2: This story is going to be moving quickly after this, I can see the finish line and it's coming up soon. After all, Harry only has a couple more Horcruxes to destroy, and now he has even more of a reason to go after them with all of his might and intelligence.

Chapter 31: When You Were There

The funeral for Roger Davies started at midday on January 3rd. His body was being laid to rest on the back portion of his family's estate, where close to seven generations of other Davies' were buried. Over sixty people attended the ceremony, most of them being various family members, friends, or members of the Order of the Phoenix. Lisa, his wife, sat in the front along with his parents, her daughter Harmony nestled protectively in her arms. Both Harry and Tonks sat in the second row, along with Viktor and Hermione, and Cedric and Gaetana, whom seemingly had ended the charade and had become a couple; or at the very least, Gaetana wanted to be there for Cedric to make sure he would be all right.

The rest of the Order was situated sporadically in the rows behind, with Sirius and Remus sitting next to one another—Sirius' arm was wrapped around Emmeline Vance, which made Harry guess that their relationship had been still going on, hidden away from the world. He would have to talk to Sirius about that, he knew, but he smiled, knowing that his godfather was having the life he always wanted to have. Remus wasn't alone, either, with Hestia Jones, his on again off again flame, sitting right there, holding his hand tightly. Harry knew that Roger's death had also hit Remus hard, as the werewolf had taught Roger in Hogwarts, and had watched him grow into the man that he was. Remus had even attended not only Roger's wedding, but the birth of Harmony, as well.

Behind them sat Lilyre Moon and Wayne Hopkins, their Spungen sister girlfriends sitting on the other side of them. They were both around the same age of Lilyre and Wayne, and had long blonde hair that was reminiscent of Lucius and Draco Malfoy—which was a family trait, as the Spungen sisters' great aunt was married to Abraxas Malfoy and was the mother of Lucius. They pair listened to the service politely, though they did not know Roger, and really only attended because Lilyre and Wayne were friends of the man. While they were pureblooded and rich, they did not act down to anybody and were quite pleasant to be around. In fact, often times they allowed muggleborns or other Order members refuge in their Scottish highlands estate, knowing that the Dark Lord neither knew about it nor was able to get there if he did.

Shacklebolt stood in the background, and while he tried to hide it, his eyes were watering, the weight of Roger's death pressing down on his heart and shoulders. As Declan Tennyson, the overseer of the funeral began, Shacklebolt turned his back to the procession, making sure his Aurors were scattered around the grounds, preventing any Death Eater from attacking. This was Roger's day, and no matter what Shacklebolt had to do, he would not allow Voldemort or his cronies to ruin it. With deep breath and a wipe of his eyes, Shacklebolt returned his attention to Tennyson, intent on listening to his every word.

Neville Longbottom and Despereaux Barnaud sat off to the left, five rows behind Harry. While they were not really friends with Roger, nor did they ever really talk to him, they both knew that he would be incredibly missed within the Order of the Phoenix; Neville also felt a pang of guilt, knowing that the Death Eater he was going to duel, Rabastan Lestrange, left him alone, but he didn't immediate run over to help Roger in his duel against Rookwood. It was like back in Hogwarts, where Roger and Harry would sometimes stick up to Malfoy for Neville, out of hatred for Draco and not loyalty to Neville, and Neville would never pay them back: it was the same situation, Neville owing a debt to Roger that could not be paid. It was something that infuriated Neville to no end, something that made him feel weak and incompetent.

"Despereaux, I have a question for you." Neville asked in a whisper, as he leaned towards the other man. Despereaux gave a small nod of his head, and Neville continued. "When you say you're a Lestrange, what do you mean by that?"

Despereaux gave him a sideways glance. "My father is Rabastan Lestrange." He said, knowing exactly who Neville was and what his parents had gone through by his father's magic. In truth, though Despereaux would admit it to no one, it was why he had become friends with Neville in the first place. Their friendship, however, had blossomed since then and now Neville was more than just a sorrowful story in the eyes of Despereaux.

"Then we have a lot to talk about." Neville whispered back, knowing that Despereaux deserved to hear about his father. Despereaux cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing in response.

The ceremony began in full, and with a hushed ambiance, Declan Tennyson described Roger Davies, telling the attendees just what kind of man he was. He was loving, caring, proud, and quiet, though he was somewhat arrogant. While sometimes he would not think things through completely, he was incredibly intelligent and witty as he was once a Ravenclaw. Where he wasn't as magically gifted as Cedric, Harry, or even Viktor, he was astoundingly savvy when it came to his business doings, somehow knowing what to do and when to do it: it was like a sixth sense for him. He would be leaving behind his wife and daughter, his two parents—who were crying in the front row next to Lisa—and his friends, all of whom loved him dearly.

Harry, just then, turned his gaze to a tree that was off in the distance, and through squinted eyes, he could barely make out the silhouette of an old man: the same old man that he had seen many times before now. His long gray hair was tied back into a ponytail, and his beard was well kept and nicely groom. He wore an elegant purple muggle suit with a dark black cloak covering it, and brown leather shoes that somehow seemed perfect for his attire. Harry stared at him, knowing that the man knew he was being observed, hoping that he would somehow figure out just who he was. The man continued to watch the services, and when Harry realized he was missing it, he pulled his attention back, as well, knowing that he would never forgive himself if he didn't give Roger the respect that he deserved. He promised himself that he would figure it out later, but right now was Roger's time, and he wouldn't miss it for some stupid problem that needed solving.

Hermione watched as Viktor stared off into the trees above Roger's tomb, his eyes glazed over. Put simply, Roger was his best friend. Harry had introduced the pair during Viktor's stay in the Ravenclaw house during the Tri-Wizard Cup, and ever since that day, the pair had talked everyday and had been nearly inseparable during their later teenage years. Not only that, but Roger and Viktor had worked so many hours together, starting their business and whatnot, and as a result they both knew each other better than anyone in the world, barring their respective wives. Viktor gave out a sigh, angry at the thought of not protecting his friend: Roger had been the weakest of their group of four, even though Roger was one of the more skilled wizards of the Order and was by no means weak himself, he had been the one that held the group together as they all wanted to protect him, to help him in anyway they could. If Roger called them for help, they would drop what they were doing and rush to Roger's side—though Roger never did ask for help, as he was especially bullheaded and arrogant to an extent.

"I'll miss you, my friend," Viktor said to himself, and with that one short sentence, Hermione knew that her husband had begun the grieving process, finally admitting that his friend was dead.

Cedric was holding Gaetana's hand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. His palms were clammy, and perspiration was beginning to accumulate on his brow, even with the cold and chilly weather that came during the winter months. He was the most angry out of the entire group, with Harry instead being the riddled with guilt and Viktor overcome with grief; Cedric desired nothing more than vengeance for his fallen friend, and was consumed by a bloodlust that would only subside with Rookwood's death. Gaetana whispered something in his ear, and for a second, a smile appeared on his face, before he sighed out and released some of his anger, knowing that it was neither the time nor place. He would get his vengeance, but until that time came, he would not allow his rage to consume his life and ruin all of the good things around him.

A small reception was held after the ceremony. Roger's parents had rented a large tent that was able to hold over a hundred people, hoping to shield the attendees from the harsh climate. Food and drinks were served, and there was music playing lowly in the background, allowing people to enjoy the easy tones but still be able to converse with whomever they wanted. Tables and chairs were situated around the tent in no particular order, allowing everyone to socialize with each other, rather than just the table they were sitting at.

Harry's group of friends all sat together, and just as they were getting up to get something to eat, Lisa came by to greet them. "I'm glad you guys could come." She said, the sadness in her voice almost palpable.

"Yeah, well," Cedric shrugged, knowing she was just saying that to be polite and didn't intend for a response.

"I think we all wanted you to know that, well, we're here for you, Lisa," Viktor said, taking the witch's hand and giving it a tender rub. "And we'll always be there for Harmony, all of us." He finished, gesturing to everyone behind him, who were nodding their agreement.

Lisa smiled; tear stains on her puffy cheeks. She rolled her gaze over all of the people around her, making eye contact with everyone but Harry—a fact that he noticed and was puzzled about. "Thank you." She replied, simply, and then said her goodbyes and went over to sit with Roger's parents and her own.

"I'll be right back." Harry whispered to Tonks, whom nodded and took a sip out of her green drink. Harry walked over to Lisa's table and tapped the woman on her shoulder, saying, "Can I speak to you for a second?"

"I guess." Lisa responded, rising from her seat and taking a few steps to the side for some privacy.

"Is something the matter between us, Lisa?" Harry questioned in a low tone. "I know we've never talked all that much, and you're better friends with Tonks than you are with me, but I felt as if you hated me or something when you ignored me before."

"To be quite honest, Harry," Lisa said, not meeting Harry's eyes. "I blame you for Roger's death. I know its probably not fair, nor rational, but still, in my heart I know that Roger would not have died if he hadn't joined your precious Order. If you hadn't been involved, neither would he have been, and for that, I blame you for his death."

Harry's reared back in shock, thunderstruck by what Lisa had said. "I'm sorry." He replied in a measly voice, not knowing how to react.

"I know you are, Harry. But right now, that just isn't good enough." She nodded to Harry, and walked over to talk to another group of people, presumably to accept their condolences.

"Are you all right?" Tonks asked Harry as she came up behind him. She noticed he was watching Lisa leave, and could tell that something had happened between them, but had no idea what.

"No." Harry said, honestly, putting his arm around his wife. The pair stayed at the reception for another hour or so, before leaving and going back home.

Once they arrived, Harry braved the cold weather and sat outside in the gazebo that Ted and Andromeda Tonks had given the couple for Christmas. It was made from cherry wood, and was situated on the cliffs above the ocean, allowing those who sat within a great view of the crashing waves and deep blue water. Ted had designed and worked on it, but the idea came from Andromeda, who knew that Harry and Nymphadora loved to just sit out on the cliffs and watch the water, with Harry doing it almost every night. This night, Harry noticed immediately, was dark and foreboding, with many of the stars being blocked out by the giant gray clouds in the sky.

Nymphadora closed the front door behind her as she trenched through the cold and wet snow to the gazebo. She carried a large fleece blanket in her arms, one big enough to be able to fit a whole group underneath it, let alone two people. Seeing that Harry was slightly shivering as she neared him, she quickened her pace and arrived a few moments later. Before doing anything else, she wrapped the blanket over his shoulders tightly, making sure he was warm, and then sat down, nestling in close to him. They stayed silent for a while, Harry gazing at the waves hitting the rocks and Tonks staring at the stars, trying to figure out which constellation was which—even though most of her relatives were named after them, she never really could figure out the constellations.

Tonks felt Harry turn his head, and she moved her eyes to the side and saw that he was looking at her. "I let this war against Voldemort go on for too long." Harry cried, suddenly, his cheeks turning a tear-stricken pink. "If I had only done something sooner, Roger would still be here."

"Oh, Harry." Tonks cooed, trying to console him. Her heart broke at the pain that Harry's face showed, how sad he was. "This isn't your fault."

"No, don't you dare say that!" Harry snarled, pushing away from Tonks slightly. "You know it is. You know that I, and I alone, have the ability to defeat Voldemort. No one else can!"

"Roger wanted to fight with you, Harry." Tonks responded calmly, knowing that it was the truth. Roger was a brave man, and Harry's grief was blinding him to the facts. "He wanted to be there, right next to you, helping you win this war for us. Don't you dare try and say that he was a coward, that he wouldn't have rather died than hide away."

"He was my oldest friend! He was there when I first entered the magical world. He was there; he's always been there. You don't understand how much we experienced together, how close we were." He smiled as a thought popped into his mind, a memory of days long since past. "Did I ever tell you about the time where we found this hidden door on the second floor? Yeah, it wasn't even on the Marauder's map; it was one the few secrets of Hogwarts that wasn't on there. After Remus had told me the story behind the map's creation, Roger and I would always go exploring the castle, trying to find what my father and his friends couldn't. We tried to get Cedric to come along with us, but it was too hard to smuggle him out of his common room at first: that is, of course, until I found a secret way in and out of your Hufflepuff common room."

Tonks grinned at that, remembering her Hufflepuff days, how happy and easy those days were. "I remember you telling me about that a long time ago. You didn't find it until his sixth year, and late in the year at that, right?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "And by then it was useless as the next year he was Headboy, so he could come out anytime he wanted."

"That's a shame. Why couldn't you find it earlier than that? Then all of you could have had some fun running around the halls of Hogwarts together, maybe even learn more secrets." Tonks said, trying to get Harry's mind onto happy memories, knowing that grief was right on the doorstep of his mind.

"I didn't find the spell that allowed me to figure out the doorway's secret until too late, that's why." Harry answered, somewhat mournfully. "Remus knew that I was trying to figure it out, but he was no help, all he did was laugh and wish me luck. I never did know if he knew about it before I found it, I would hope he did but you never know."

"Who knew Hogwarts better, you or Roger? Or did Remus know Hogwarts better than both of you?" Tonks questioned, still trying to keep Harry on the happy memories, hoping to ease his grief.

"I don't know. I mean," Harry rubbed his chin in thought, weighing the question. "I guess I did, because I was able to go to places he couldn't go to in my tiger form, but he and Cedric went to places as a pair without me when I was first trying my animagus transformation, so they might have found something out and never told me. And as for Remus, we never knew just how much about Hogwarts he actually knew, since he was a teacher, he couldn't just outright tell us all he knew. We never got around to question him about it over the years, either."

"They would have told you, Harry." Tonks replied, having experienced the bond that Harry and his friends shared first hand. "You guys never had any secrets between you, except for the animagus one."

Harry stayed silent for a few minutes, his eyes still gazing at the water below. Then, in a low voice, he muttered, "I should have protected him."

Tonks sighed, and ran a hand over Harry's face. "You couldn't have done anything more, Harry. Trust me, I know you; I know that you are going to beat yourself up over this, but you need to know that you are a hero. You protect so many people, including Roger when he was alive. Roger's death does not disprove that fact, do you understand?"

"I've just lost so much to Voldemort: my parents, our baby, Dumbledore, and now Roger? If I lose you, no, I can't…I wouldn't be able to live." Harry cried, hot tears rushing down his face.

"I'm right here, Harry. You won't ever, ever lose me, you got that?" Tonks soothed, leaning into him. She rubbed her left hand over his back, and closed her eyes, the safety of his arms overcoming her. "I'll always be here." She whispered again, though it was more to herself than to Harry.

Later that night, Harry sat alone in his workshop, his stone pensieve placed in front of him as a gray substance swirled inside its large bowl. He prodded the substance with his wand, and two memories took form side by side, showcasing an old man's face. One memory was of the time when he encountered the old man within the Ministry, the other was from just that morning at Roger's funeral. He studied every wrinkle, every freckle that the man had, trying to find the smallest of hints of who he was, the minimalist of clues. He scanned every inch of the man, from as many angles as he could, searching for something, anything that would give him an idea.

Then, after nearly a half an hour, Harry leaned back in his chair, put his wand down on the table, and muttered: "I know who he is." The only problem was he didn't know just what to do with that knowledge.

The Death Eaters attacked a small muggle village in the north of Scotland the next day. Houses were burning to the ground, while the muggles who lived in them were screaming as they ran out of them; the Death Eaters all the while laughed at their pain, their suffering. The Order of the Phoenix arrived just as the Aurors did, and all of the good wizards and witches jumped into the fray by either dueling a Death Eater or putting out the flames of the fires that were spreading quickly. Some of the Aurors were doing their best to heal the injuries of the muggles, many of whom had very serious burns all over their body, but most of the muggles were unattended and on the verge of death. The Death Eaters were seemingly confident, as none of them had disapparated away like they usually did during other raids of the like.

All the while, Harry, Viktor, and Cedric were grouped together as a trio, searching for a specific Death Eater. Then, dueling Boderick Bode, Rookwood showed his face, and they headed straight for him, like men on a mission. Harry led the way, flicking and swishing his wand, blocking the spells that zoomed towards them easily. Sometimes he would even fling them back at their casters, showing an understanding and knowledge of magic that was previously hidden from the world. Rookwood hit Bode with a curse, and the Unspeakable went down, hitting the floor with a deafening screech, though he was still alive. In the corner of his eye, Rookwood saw the trio coming towards him, their wands raised and their pace quickening with each step. Knowing that he didn't stand a chance against them, he turned and ran, and just as he was about to apparate out, Harry grabbed his cloak, forcing the Death Eater to take him with him; Viktor and Cedric had grabbed onto Harry in turn, making Rookwood take all three of them along.

Rookwood tumbled as he arrived on a small, narrow dirt road, barely big enough for a muggle car to drive on. Quickly and frightfully, he dashed back to his feet, gripping his wand as he spun around, his eyes wide, staring at Cedric, Viktor, and Harry; all of whom surrounded him, pointing their wands his way. "Come to make me pay for killing your pitiful friend, huh, Potter?" He sneered, angrily and dangerously. He would not go down without a fight, and would not show the trio his fear of them.

"Simply put," Harry said, swishing his wand quicker than Rookwood could see; a great spell hit the former Unspeakable, pushing him down onto bended knee. "Yes." Again, Harry flicked his wand, and a spell shot out, hitting Rookwood's wand arm, and Rookwood's wand flew away as a result.

"He was a good man, he had a daughter." Viktor screamed, losing himself in his hatred, his anger for the scum that was before him. "My god daughter is without a father now, all because of you!"

"Crucio!" Harry barked, pointing his wand at the downed Rookwood. As the red beam hit the Death Eater, his back arched, his eyes bulged, and he screamed…it was a terrible, blood-curdling scream. Viktor and Cedric both gripped their wands, and then, joining Harry, they too cast the Cruciatus curse, tripling Rookwood's pain.

They didn't laugh like Death Eaters would. They enjoyed it, yes, but they enjoyed the pain that it brought him, not the pain that it brought people in general. Maybe, just maybe, this was showing Rookwood the pain, the agony that he put them in by killing Roger; the pain and agony he put people's loved ones in when he went on his killing and torture sprees. Rookwood's screams continued on for a few seconds, getting louder and louder, before they stopped, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and blood accumulating at the corners of his mouth. They all lifted the curse at the same time, staring down at Rookwood's body in contempt: the man was convulsing on the ground, looking pale and sweaty.

"Any last words, Rookwood?" Harry snarled, giving the man his chance. He swallowed the lump that was in his throat, remembering that Rookwood deserved this. While he had killed before, he had never done it like this before, like an executioner.

Rookwood rolled his eyes to Harry; they were dull and listless, as if he was already dead. "The Dark Lord will kill you and your mudblood friends, Potter." He spat the blood in his mouth down at the ground in front of Harry, hitting the tops of his black shoes.

Harry shook his head, throwing his wand in an outwards fashion. "Aveda Kedavra!" Harry yelled, though his voice was not the only one saying the Killing Curse. Cedric had also cast the curse at the same time, an anger to him that Harry had never seen before and thought he would probably never see again. The two green bolts raced towards the downed Rookwood, nailing him in the chest in unison, killing him instantly. His body slumped in the mud; it was dead and lifeless. They stared disgustedly at the body, their hatred and rage suppressing somewhat, though their loss was still on their mind. "Give me your wands." Harry grunted, taking a few steps closer to the pair. They both threw their wands over to him, and watched as he performed the Deletrius spell on all of the wands, erasing the history of the Unforgiveables from them. After all, it wouldn't be good for the Order if two of their main wizards were thrown into Azkaban—Harry was sure he could have came up with a viable story for himself, as he was given the right to use whatever force necessary in his job as a Hitwizard, but he knew he would be hard pressed to defend Cedric and Victor's use of the curse.

Once done, Harry tossed the wands back and gave Rookwood's body one last look, staring at it with disdain. Then, with barely an audible pop, he apparated out and away, going back home and leaving the scene. Cedric and Viktor soon followed, their eyes red and their shoulders slumped. They both appeared in front of Harry's gates just a few seconds later, and with a screech, they popped open, granting the pair entrance to the their friend's house. Walking through the front door, they headed straight for Harry's sitting room, where they knew Harry would be waiting for them. Sure enough, Harry was there, along with Kingsley, Remus, and Sirius, all with drinks in their hand, having the discussions that Roger always loved; apparently, the raid had finished, and their services weren't needed as the Aurors and Obliviators were taking care of the clean up. They stayed well into the night, each telling their favorite stories about Roger, knowing that that would be the last night of their grief, that their friend's death would not haunt them anymore after that night. They would still remember him, and feel sadness for his death, but they would not be consumed by it, they would not lose themselves in the grief that it brought to them.

Meanwhile, the Dark Lord Voldemort appeared outside of a tall, dark-looking stone tower. Knowing that his prey would be on the top level, he flew high into the air with his wand clutched tightly in his spider-like fingers. He flicked his wand at the stone bricks that enclosed the prisoner, blowing a hole the size of a car within the structure. He smirked evilly as he landed inside the chamber, and then took a step forward, looking around expectantly. He gazed towards the bed, no one. Then over to the toilet, again no one…no one was there. "What?" He growled, looking to the door. It was closed, and he could feel the magic around it: it was locked.

"This is impossible. NO!" Voldemort screamed out, his red eyes burning with anger. He took his wand, gestured to the other wall, and blew it away with nothing but a flick; shards of stone and metal came rushing towards him, but he conjured a simple shield to deflect them before they were able to hit him. Lightning flashed down from the sky just then, and with barely suppressed rage, Voldemort floated out of the tower and took off into the air, going back the same way he came, having failed his mission.

AN: You will know who the old man is within two chapters, though I'm sure the curious ones of you readers have already figured it out—I have been leaving clues as to who it is for awhile. Any guesses as to who it is?


	32. The Venom and the Lie

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: This chapter is out quickly because I'm trying to finish this story before I graduate in two weeks. There are only another three, maybe four chapters left in the story, with an epilogue at the end, so its coming to an end soon.

S/N 2: I've been setting up this chapter and the next one since chapter seven way back to a time before "Deathly Hallows," was released. If you read the story note or the S/N of that chapter, you'll see that I mentioned Gringotts.

Chapter 32: The Venom and the Lie

Harry Potter sat on the stool that was in front of his workbench, a look of concentration on his face. On the desk in front of him laid the Horcruxes of Voldemort, each spread apart in an effort to prevent them from touching one another. Tom Riddle's diary was to the left; it was closed and showed golden cursive writing on its cover. In the middle stood Ravenclaw's diadem, shimmering with beauty in the room's light, seemingly remembering all of the beautiful women who had adorned their heads with it before. And to the right, in the corner of the bench were the two destroyed Horcruxes, the locket of Salazar Slytherin and the Peverell ring, which also doubled as the resurrection stone of the Three Hallows.

He pulled the diary towards him, and opened up to a blank page in the middle of the book. Grabbing a quill, he dipped it gently into the bottle of black ink that was next to him and scrawled in messy cursive a single word: Hello.

Ink appeared on the paper from nowhere, and after a few seconds, formed into a response. "Hello?"

"It is Athelstan Black," Harry wrote, using the name that he had made up when he first wrote in the journal a few days ago. He figured that the sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle would be more willing to divulge information about himself if he thought he was talking to a very pure wizard. Plus, he argued to himself when he was creating his new identity, the Black family held a connection to the Dark Arts, further increasing his chances of gaining information. He knew that Dumbledore had been doing this since he first received the diary during Harry's fourth year, when he had found it in the office of Argus Filch, and he now wanted to continue the practice further.

"Black? How are you?" Tom Riddle replied in black ink that appeared from nowhere once again.

"Quite well, thank you." Harry wrote back. "I am having trouble hiding my…more questionable items, but other than that, I am well."

"Don't we all have those problems? When I was in Hogwarts, the filthy little mudbloods always tried to pilfer my things. I of course punished them in response; they should know that no one steals from me." The ink appeared from nowhere, and after a second, reformed itself into, "What year are you in Hogwarts, Black?"

"I am in my final year." Harry scribbled, inwardly frowning: it wasn't working, and he doubted it ever would. Dumbledore had already mined whatever information this version of Tom Riddle either knew or was willing to divulge, so now there was nothing left to find out. He could feel the piece of soul inside the journal trying to enter his heart and mind, trying to overtake Harry's body. Harry denied it and defended himself, deciding it would be best not to talk to the journal anymore after tonight.

"Slytherin, right?" The diary wrote, seemingly seething with the disgust that Tom Riddle felt for every Hogwarts house other than Slytherin.

"Correct." Harry wrote, biting his lip. He was contemplating how to end it, he didn't want to tell Tom he knew what he was, but he also didn't want to be tempted to write in it again. Deciding, he wrote a simple goodbye with his quill. "But I have to go, goodbye Tom."

"Bye." And with that, Harry closed the diary and leaned back in his seat, disappointment written all over his face.

"Knock, knock." Sirius' voice came from the entrance of the room. Harry swiveled around in his stool and moved his gaze over to the man, who smiled at his godson in response. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," said Harry, tiredly. He gestured with his left hand to a stool that was in the corner, and Sirius nodded and brought it over to where Harry was and sat down on it.

"What are you doing?" Sirius questioned as his eyes moved over the objects that lined Harry's workbench. He recognized Nymphadora's wedding tiara, but he had no idea why Harry was studying it like he appeared to be doing.

"You really want to know?" Harry laughed, running a hand through his long black hair. "These are the Horcruxes of Voldemort."

"Horcruxes?" Sirius asked, trying to remember where he had heard that word. Then it struck him, the day Harry was asking about R.A.B. was when he first heard his brother say the word Horcrux. "I meant to ask you before, and I know Regulus knows what one is though I don't know how, but…what is a Horcrux?"

"Short answer? Its how Voldemort survived all of those years without a body." Harry stretched his arms up in the air, as he gave out a yawn. "The long answer is that a Horcrux is a receptacle for one's soul, an item in which Dark Wizards place a piece of themselves inside to bond their being to the living world. It is created for the sole purpose of attaining immortality."

Sirius gave Harry an odd look, confused about how a Dark Wizard could do that. "How is it created?"

"By murder. When you kill someone, a small part of yourself is ripped from you, and Dark Wizards use that to place inside a relic that has some importance to them." Harry answered, picking up the broken locket of Slytherin to show Sirius. "They then hide it away from the world, in the hopes that no one will find it and destroy it. Though, to me, that is such a stupid idea, I don't see why they wouldn't just create a Horcrux out of a seashell and then throw it into the ocean. It would probably be lost forever, and more protected than the Dark Wizard could ever dream about doing by himself."

"Awful." Sirius muttered, though he did not react any more than that.

"Yeah." Harry nodded in agreement. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Oh, and here I thought I was always welcome." Sirius jested, earning a grunt from his godson. "I just wanted to see how you were and get together. We really haven't talked much since, well, since this whole Voldemort thing started again."

"Yeah," Harry agreed again, having missed spending time with Sirius. "I'm sorry about that, this isn't how I wanted it to be. It seems like forever ago that we were at the Quidditch World Cup."

"Its funny that you should say that, I was just thinking about it." Sirius replied with a grin. "You will be playing in the next one, won't you? Next time, you better win."

"The whole team's coming back." Harry replied, enthusiastically. "Honestly, I didn't know how I would feel when I got sent to the Welsh team, but now I wouldn't have it any other way. It just feels…right, you know?"

"Right for you, you mean. Having to root against your own country because your godson plays for another team is hard, Harry." Sirius smiled, and then changed the subject. "So are you busy, do you want to go have a drink, maybe get something to eat?"

"I'm not too busy," Harry said slowly as a thought popped into his mind. "In fact, I think you can help me with some things. I need a second opinion on this, and I want to keep it a secret."

"Kylie and Cedric aren't around?" Sirius replied, somewhat bitterly. In truth, he was a bit jealous that Kylie and Cedric were both privy to more information from Harry than he was, a fact he didn't quite understand himself.

Harry noticed the tone of Sirius' response but chose to ignore, not knowing why Sirius was angry to begin with. "Kylie has already helped me on one of my projects, it's your turn to help me now." Sirius gave him a quizzical look, but said nothing. "I need your opinion on the question that I've been trying to answer for the last two hours."

"Go on." Sirius urged, intrigued.

Harry gave a look to the Horcruxes and sighed. "Should I use the time to preserve these precious objects or should I just destroy them completely, like I did Slytherin's locket?"

"What do you mean by 'use the time?'" Sirius asked, trying to gain more information so he could better answer the question.

"I know of a way to strip them of the soul inside by use of a potion, but in order to complete that potion, I need a really rare ingredient. However, while I'm searching for this ingredient, as well as trying to find Voldemort's last Horcrux, I'm using precious time when I could just destroy the ones I have and not waste any more time." Harry answered, trying to explain the situation.

"Tell me, by trying to find this ingredient, are you being pulled from your search for the last Horcrux? Is it taking away your time from that endeavor?" Sirius inquired in a knowing tone.

"Not really." Harry answered after a moment's thought.

"Then what's the point of just destroying these objects? I presume we will not defeat Voldemort permanently without that last Horcrux, correct?" Sirius reasoned, though he admittedly had limited knowledge about the Horcrux situation in the first place. "So you're truly not wasting time if you haven't found that Horcrux yet, are you? What would be the difference between destroying them now or destroying them after finding that Horcrux that you're looking for?"

"I guess you're right." Harry replied tentatively, having never seen it like that. As long as it wasn't detracting him from finding the last Horcrux, it made no difference if he used some of his time to find the venom and concoct the potion.

"I know I am." Sirius grinned. "What is the other Horcrux, anyway?"

"I believe it's the cup of Hufflepuff." Harry pointed to a drawn picture of Helga Hufflepuff that was in a history of magic book that he had opened off to the side; the witch had her golden chalice in her hands, and wore a jolly smile on her plump face. "Its ironic, really, that Zacharias Smith, you know one of the Death Eaters that died?" Sirius nodded, so he continued. "Well, Zacharias Smith was related to Hepzibah Smith, the woman Voldemort conned out of the cup many years ago. They are direct descendents of Hufflepuff, the Smiths I mean, and to know that their family heirloom is the last thing that Voldemort has hidden from me is just funny, since it was Zacharias who always said I wouldn't be able to find what I was looking for back in Hogwarts."

Sirius cocked an eyebrow at what Harry had said. "What were you looking for?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know what I was looking for, but he was specifically talking about me supposedly wanting to be pureblooded. He was basically saying that I'd always be scum, no matter what I did, just because I am a half-blood."

"Yet he's the one that's dead." Sirius drawled, knowing that it was probably insensitive but not really caring.

"Yeah, but…" Harry sighed, and Sirius moved closer to him, worried for his godson.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked concernedly.

Harry looked down at the wood floor, and when he spoke his voice was soft and sounded nervous. "Nothing, its just that, well, I worry about not being able to find that last Horcrux."

"I'll help you, we'll find it together." Sirius assured him, putting his hand on Harry's knee and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Its not just that." Harry admitted, meeting Sirius' gaze. "Another one of my fears is that I have become too fond of these objects. I should just destroy them, I know, but…I can't. Their history, proof of the Founders' greatness, the wizard inside of me can't just tarnish them like that. I'm just glad that Nymphie didn't wear the tiara more than she did, because I think she would be more attached to it than anything else in this world, barring myself, of course."

Sirius bit his lip at that, not understanding what would be the big deal with becoming attached to them. "What happens if you get too attached to it?"

"The piece of soul that's within can slip out and overcome you, bending you to its will." Harry answered knowingly. That was an ability of the Horcruxes that was extremely powerful, and very well could create another Voldemort. "A possession of sorts, you could say." He added as he stood up and stretched.

"Wow." Sirius muttered, thinking about the implications of such an ability as that.

"Come, I want you to see something." Harry motioned for Sirius to follow him.

They both walked over to the corner where a trunk was sitting, and with a pop, Harry opened the trunk up. He jumped down into the chamber below, and moved off to the side so Sirius could land. When Sirius did finally jump in, his eyes were met with a beautifully decorated chamber, with marvelous images all around. His gaze roamed all around the room, trying to take in every inch of it.

The room was alight with torches that hung on the wall, burning with a green flame that was as bright as the green of Harry's eyes. In each of the four corners were four marble-like pillars, with big words engraved in them, like crevices in the stone: Storge, Agape, Philia, and Eros. Across from the entrance on the other side of the room, there was a mural of an Azkaban-like castle, a fortress, it was tall and constructed from black stone; it created shadows in the forefront of the picture, as the sky in the background magically flashed with lightning. On the floor, the carpet was a mural too, showing five pyramids located in a desert, each one bigger than the last; they all looked to be made of rock, and were placed in a sea of golden sand.

"Apparently, Dumbledore jokingly called this room the chamber of the forgotten names. It was the place he went to late at night when he felt alone or lonely; it comforted him. I've read a few of the books that are in the bookshelves, just as Dumbledore had done during his lifetime. It seems that he learned a lot from a man named Pyramidas Furmat, one of the first curse breakers of Gringotts that spent most of his time in Egypt. Hence the carpet," Harry laughed, pointing down to the floor.

"So this was Dumbledore's trunk?" Sirius questioned, as he ran a hand over the fortress of shadows mural.

"No, it was actually Nicholas Flamel's, but it was given to Dumbledore as a gift when he took over as the Headmaster of Hogwarts." Harry corrected, watching as Sirius studied everything. "I've only come in here three or four times, but not in a few weeks."

Sirius nodded, and walked in a circle around the chamber, scanning the place with his steady gaze. "Why the pillars of love? Or the Green flame torches?"

"The pillars are symbolism for love being able to hold up anyone or anything, every type of love has that ability: storge, or the love of a parent to a child; agape, or the general love shared between people; philia, the love between friends; and eros, the love shared between lovers." Harry recited, as if he had read a manual for the architecture of the room or something. "The torches? I have no idea what they're about, but I know the fortress is known as the Fortress of Shadows, a hypothetical castle where evil rules over all." Harry then gestured to the other side of the chamber, where the desk held a pensieve. "I wanted you to see this."

Sirius' eyes narrowed onto the pensieve, specifically the writing that went around the opening of the stone basin; in loopy, archaic cursive, it read: The Chariot of Light. He cocked an eyebrow towards Harry, wondering what it meant on the pensieve. "The Chariot of Light?"

"Exactly," Harry nodded. "This wasn't the pensieve that Dumbledore usually used, the one that was located in his office before his death. This one is positively ancient, maybe even older than the oldest tomes that I have in my library, some of which are a thousand years old."

"I have no idea what it means on this, Harry," Sirius said, running a hand over the runes. "But the Chariot of Light was, according to legend, a group of wizards and witches that fought against a Dark Wizard in the 1500s. In a way, it's sort of like a precursor to the Order of the Phoenix."

Harry blinked at the information, wondering why he had never known about that. "I've never heard of them."

"I read about them when I was younger. There's a book in my house library about them if you ever want to read it." Sirius responded with a shrug. "Its interesting that they would be on this pensieve, though. This isn't the pensieve you normally use, is it? I've never noticed it before."

"No, its not. The one I normally use is upstairs in my quidditch room. Dumbledore gave me that one when I became of age. This one," Harry gestured to the stone basin in front of him. "Was here in the trunk when I first came down here, set up by Dumbledore to react when I first got here. But this isn't his, either, so it's quite strange."

"Perhaps its symbolizes something like everything else in this place. Perhaps Dumbledore left this specific pensieve for you to make you remember that you are fighting the good fight, fighting for something that is noble and honorable, and most of all, you're fighting for what is right." Sirius mused out loud, wondering what it was that Harry was looking for. He noticed that Harry was confused lately, as if he was trying to find answers to unasked questions.

"Did this Chariot of Light win their battle? Did they defeat the Dark Lord they were up against?" Harry asked Sirius, showing that he wasn't the all-knowing wizard that most thought he was; for once since Sirius has known him, he was actually acting his age.

"We're here right now, aren't we?" Sirius shrugged, and the pair went silent at that. They left Harry's home soon after that, going to the Leaky Cauldron for a meal and a drink.

The Dark Lord Voldemort strolled through the stone halls of the basement of Riddle Manor, his headquarters until he could conquer Hogwarts. After all, in his megalomaniac mind, there was no place on Earth other than Hogwarts that would be a suitable seat of power for him. But tonight he was not thinking about his plans for after he conquered Hogwarts, instead he was pondering on how to break the wards protecting the ancient school. His spider-like fingers were held up to his chin, and his eyes were staring at the ground as he walked, seemingly in deep concentration. As he entered his throne room, the Death Eaters that he had summoned bowed towards him, not daring or stupid enough to meet his gaze.

"I have heard some things throughout my travels." Voldemort began as Nagini slithered out of the shadows and circled around her master. "That my Death Eaters have been failing, that they have gotten more of our numbers caught. Travers, take a step forward."

A tall and thin wizard, wearing long black robes, inched out of the circle and closer to the Dark Lord. "Yes, my lord?"

"You were put in charge of your comrades by Lord Voldemort since Quirrell and Crouch are both busy right now, is that correct?"

Travers took a deep breath, fear rising in his belly. "…Yes, my lord."

Voldemort turned his back on Travers, taking a minute to find his thoughts. "And as such, it was you who ordered the raid upon that muggle village, was it not?"

"Again, yes, my lord." Travers replied, bracing himself to be punished. He knew that the Cruciatus curse would be coming soon, he only hoped that he wouldn't die after it, as well.

Voldemort whipped his head towards Travers, gripping his wand tightly in his hand, though he did not seem as angry as he normally would be. "What did your silly raid accomplish, Travers? It got more of you caught and, worse yet, Rookwood is now dead. He was twice the wizard you will ever be. " He stared at Travers for a lingering moment, and then ran his gaze down to the floor.

"I'm sorry, my lord. We did kill muggles, though, and that can never be a bad thing, can it?" Voldemort was looking down at the ground, seemingly so lost in his thoughts that he had not even heard what Travers had said. "My lord?"

"Oh, right." Voldemort sneered. "Next time, use the Dementors, that's what the beasts are for." He then rounded on a group of eight Death Eaters who were bowing down in front of him, their gaze firmly on their master's feet. "And you, I thought you were my most loyal? I thought you braved Azkaban, along with Travers here, for a purpose?"

"We did, my lord." They all said in unison; Bellatrix Lestrange was on the far right, and Antonin Dolohov was on the far left—in between them were Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Mulciber, Gibbon, the Elder Avery, and finally Jugson. Out of the twelve that had been in Azkaban while Voldemort was in hiding, only one had been either killed or captured so far and that was Augustus Rookwood, who had been killed by Harry just days beforehand.

"You fools! You're weaker than the rest of these idiots." He gestured around the stone room, pointing at the newer Death Eaters who weren't of the same quality as his older Death Eaters. "What was the point of me releasing you from Azkaban if the prison zapped away your powers and your knowledge?" Voldemort hissed, as his eyes were burning with the hatred he felt. "And you, Bellatrix, you haven't been the same since Potter hit you with his silly little curse all those months ago. I should kill you for being so weak."

"Please, my lord." Bellatrix pleaded, her violet eyes wide with fear. She could feel her position within the ranks slipping minute by minute, a fact that made her hate Harry Potter more than anybody in the world. He made her weak, made her have to depend upon her husband, something she didn't like doing and never would. "I feel my magic returning to me each and every day, it'll be completely back soon, I know it."

"It better be." Voldemort looked around his circle, counting the numbers: twenty-four. _Then there's Pettigrew, Crouch, Quirrell, Macnair, and Greyback, all of whom are out on a mission_, he thought to himself. _Rookwood and Smith are dead; the Malfoys have defected in terror; Selwyn, Scabior and Rowle have all been captured; plus, there are all the other lowly and nameless Death Eaters who have been casualties in this war, too pathetic for me to even remember their names_, he continued his musing, _but now it seems that our numbers will not be enough_.

Without saying another word, Voldemort turned and left the room, walking down a hallway before entering a small, stone chamber. There, in the corner, chained to the wall, was a silver-haired man, who was dirtied and on the verge of death. "No." The old man said, trying to move away from the Dark Lord.

"He was not there as you said he would be, Ollivander." Voldemort growled, his wand held tightly in his right hand. He looked down at the wretched wizard that was in front of him, disgust written all over his pale and snake-like face. "You lied! Lord Voldemort does not take being lied to lightly."

"No, no, I didn't!" Ollivander pleaded, his silver eyes wide with fright. "Anything you want to know, I'll tell you."

"Where is it, Ollivander? Where is it, tell me now!" Voldemort yelled, his anger radiating around the small room that served as a prison of sorts.

"Gregorovitch might know." Ollivander said quickly, trying to think about what he knew. "There was a rumor a century ago, supposedly spread around by him personally, saying that he was trying to replicate its powers. Gregorovitch, he'll know. I beg you, spare me, spare me, please." Ollivander begged, not wanting to die.

"For now." Voldemort spat, turning around and exciting the room.

Harry awoke in a sweat, his breathing heavy and his arms shaking. He didn't know why it happened, for his Occlumency shields were up and working, but he had somehow entered Voldemort's mind once again. He could still feel Voldemort's emotions, his anger and his disappointment; he somehow knew that Voldemort was trying to figure something out at that precise moment. He did not know what it was that Voldemort was looking for, but if he were to bet on it, he'd wager that it was the Elder Wand.

Meanwhile, Nymphadora opened up her left eye—for she was laying on her right said, facing Harry—and watched her husband. She didn't want him to know that she had woken up, in the hopes that he would lay back down and fall asleep again. She noticed the sweat that was on his forehead, and wondered just what it was that he had seen. In truth, Harry rarely ever slept peacefully, though he didn't know anything about it; she never told him about how he always tossed and turned, mumbling all the while. A confused look popped onto her face, however, as Harry hissed something in parseltongue, which was something he hadn't done in awhile, specifically since before the return of Voldemort. She didn't know what he said, but figured it was nothing as he laid back down and quickly returned to sleep. She sighed and continued to stare at Harry as he slept, wondering just what it was that was on his mind.

The next day, Harry and Nymphadora entered 12 Grimmauld Place in time for the Order meeting that was to start a half an hour later. A few people were sitting in the kitchen, drinking butterbeer and discussing various unimportant things; they all said their greetings to the pair. Tonks stayed and talked with them while Harry continued on past them to the staircase and descended down into the basement. He spotted the man he was looking for and smiled, hoping to hear what he wanted to hear. "Mundungus, can I speak with you for a moment?" Harry said, walking down the stairs and heading towards the shady wizard sitting by the fireplace, smoking his pipe.

Mundungus Fletcher had been away for most of the war, having fled the country in fear of being arrested for impersonating an Inferi. He had just returned the other day, and had immediately reclaimed his position within the Order, knowing that he had information about the black market that no one else did. Harry had accepted him back with no questions, understanding that in spite of all his bad characteristics, he was loyal to the cause; plus, Harry saw many uses for the ginger-haired wizard.

"You can, sure, I say." Mundungus replied, turning towards Harry. "Is it about those cauldrons that I have for sale, top quality they are. Got them from a shipment of Goblins just the other day, I did."

Harry shook his head, trying to decipher what it was Mundungus had said. He had a strange way of speaking that often confused those around him, but he didn't seem to notice, or perhaps he just didn't care. "I was wondering, would you be able to get Acromantula venom? I know you have certain sources that might be able to help me."

"Acromantula, you say?" Mundungus gave Harry a curious glance, taking another puff of his pipe all the while. His eyes seemingly changed from the way they were before, taking on a more serious look that Harry had never witnessed from them before. "I don't believe I can get that for you, Harry. Even if I could, it would be incredibly expensive depending on how much you would want or need. Acromantula venom is especially rare, with the only real chance of getting it being in Asia."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the change of demeanor that he saw in Mundungus, having never known about this side of the man. _Thinking back_, he said to himself, _I suppose this is why Albus trusted him so much_. "Thanks anyway, Mundungus."

"Aye." Mundungus nodded, keeping his gaze on Harry's back as he walked away. "What would that boy need with Acromantula venom?" He whispered to himself.

"There's no one else." Harry muttered, taking his seat at the head of the table. His face was crestfallen and sad, showing the disappointment that he felt inside. "Unless, somehow, Hagrid could possibly help me. He always liked those dangerous beasts back in Hogwarts, maybe he knows a thing or two."

He knew that Hagrid would not be at the meeting as the man stayed on the Hogwarts ground all of the time. He was afraid that without Dumbledore there, the school was open for attack and as such, he guarded it every waking minute. He had even given up his class to further provide safety for the school, allowing Professor Grubby-Plank to take over for the time being. So after the meeting ended, he made his way over to Hogwarts with Nymphadora, needing to talk to Hagrid as soon as possible.

The pair made walked up to the gates of the school, and Harry took out his wand and sent a silver stag over to Hagrid's hut. Like he had when Harry first came to Hogwarts looking for an Acromantula, the half-giant came over and opened the gates for them, greeting them jovially with a smile. "Good to see you again, 'Arry. And it's always a pleasure, Tonks."

"Same to you, Hagrid. We've missed you at the meetings." Tonks pleasantly replied, having always enjoyed the half-giant's company.

"Yeah, but with Dumbledore gone, I don't feel comfortable leavin'." Hagrid returned, giving her a small, halfhearted smile. He deeply missed Dumbledore, and felt that the school wasn't the same without him. "So what can I do for ya, 'Arry?"

"Well," Harry said, as Hagrid closed the gates behind them and the trio began walking up the path that led to both the school and Hagrid's hut. "I came to ask if you could get me Acromantula venom. I need it for something that I have to do for the Order."

"Acromantual venom, you say, eh? Well, 'Arry, that'll be hard, as ever since Aragog died, the colony does not speak to me. I have no control over them than the normal person does. I could capture one for you, however, if it'll help the Order. Although," Hagrid said, running a hand through his long beard.

"What? What is it, Hagrid?" Harry questioned, hoping the half-giant had thought of something useful. He knew the rumors were true, that there was a colony of Acromantulas in the Forbidden forest, but he never imagined that Hagrid was connected to them in any way.

"Oh, right, 'Arry," Hagrid shook his head, apparently forgetting that either Harry or Tonks was there. "Years ago, I helped nurse one of Aragog's sons back to health, he was sick with a disease only they can catch. Perhaps, Gignea, I think his name was, remembers me and will be willing to help."

For the first time all day, Harry was filled with hope. "See what you can do, Hagrid." Harry nodded, patting him on the small of his back; it was the only place he could reach. "Thanks for all of your help."

"Don't mention it, 'Arry." Hagrid grinned, running a hand through Harry's hair and messing it up as if he was a child. Hagrid then offered them both a cup of tea, which the couple gladly accepted, knowing that Hagrid would be heartbroken or sad if they didn't. Plus, Harry figured, he owed it to Hagrid for helping him out with his Acromantula problem.

It was an hour later that Harry and Tonks were walking out of the gates of Hogwarts, holding hands as the wind picked up around them, making them both shiver in response. "Can I ask you something, Harry?" Nymphadora said lowly, giving her husband a look.

"Sure." Harry nodded, moving his gaze over to her.

"Why are you so obsessed with saving those relics? Why not just destroy them." She questioned, interested in why he was working so hard on the subject.

Harry sighed, not out of anger or grief, instead he was just trying to release the stress that had built up inside of him. "Its history, Nymphie, that's why. Voldemort has taken so much from me, from the world, I will not allow him to take these artifacts from us, because if I do, then he wins no matter what."

"I guess I can understand that." Tonks nodded slowly, then flashed him a large smile, loving that they were spending so much time together. Usually one of them was busy, which prevented them from seeing each other a lot, but today they were both off and had promised one another that they would share the day together.

"Plus," Harry added with a wry grin. "I want to be able to give the tiara to our daughter or daughter-in-law on her wedding day some time in the future."

"The daughter that I am naming, correct?" Tonks stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't think you're getting out of that deal we made, Mr. Potter. I give the name to our daughters and you give the name to our boys, remember?"

"I wouldn't dream of changing our deal, Mrs. Potter." Harry replied professionally, trying to hide the smile that was creeping onto his face. He wrapped his arms around his wife and with a small pop, the pair was gone from the streets of Hogsmeade, returning to their home in western Wales.

In the Death Eaters quarters, Rabastan Lestrange was laying on top of his bed when he heard a tap at the window. Looking over, he saw an owl perched next to the window, so he got up and popped open the window. The owl stuck out its leg and Rabastan took the parchment that was rolled around it, and then watched as the owl took off once again. Looking down at the piece of parchment, he cocked an eyebrow in wonder of who it was that was writing to him: he had no friends that would go out of their way to write to him, and the only would who ever did was his ex-wife Solange.

The letter was short and to the point, and was scrawled in red ink. It read: Meet me at this address at 6:30. Underneath the script was an address of a building in Manchester, quite the distance away from where Rabastan was. Rabastan had no idea who it was from, as he didn't recognize the handwriting, but in his heart he hoped it was Despereaux. Had his son finally given in and was willing to meet him at long last? Did he want to talk to him for some reason; perhaps he was he in trouble?

He looked down at his pocket watch, and cursed when he saw it was six o'clock already. He quickly got ready to leave, and then threw on a jacket, grabbed his wand, and exited the house, apparating away as soon as he could. He arrived near the address just moments later, and looked around at his environment; he realized that he was about a block away from the number of the building he had to be at. He walked down the street, reading the numbers that passed with each building, and then gave a smile when he arrived at the place he was told to be at. It was what seemed to be an abandoned restaurant, with an alley right next to it that housed a few garbage cans and a dumpster.

"I didn't think you would come." Despereaux Barnaud said from the shadows as he took a step out of the alleyway. "I decided not to sign it just in case it got intercepted by someone."

Rabastan's heart jumped at the sight of his son, and for the first time in a long while, he felt joy. "Very few people within the Death Eater circle know who you are, Despereaux. Really only Bellatrix and Rodolphus would be able to point you out. Not even the Dark Lord knows about you."

"Is it true?" Despereaux questioned, looking at his father. Next to one another, they looked so similar, both with dark eyes and straw colored hair, and the same skinny frame. "What Neville told me? That you've been helping him out."

"I don't know what you mean." Rabastan stated, not giving any signs that he was lying.

"It's a yes or no answer." Despereaux demanded, wanting the truth.

"No, it's not true." Rabastan replied with a shrug. "I have no idea what you're talking about, son."

"Don't call me that." Despereaux growled, angrily. He knew his father wasn't telling him the truth; he just had no idea why. "Why are you lying to me?"

Rabastan looked down the street for a brief moment, where a muggle was loading up his car with boxes, and then looked at Despereaux in the eyes. "I am a Death Eater, its what we do."

"Oh, then other Death Eaters save members of the Order of the Phoenix from certain death, as well?" Despereaux mocked, seeing the fault in Rabastan's logic. "Other Death Eaters attack Thorfinn Rowle so badly that he's still in St. Mungo's, unable to even string together a understandable sentence?"

Rabastan gave a small smirk as the memory of Thorfinn Rowle squirming on the ground came into his mind. "Who did that?" He questioned, stoically.

Despereaux tapped his foot on the ground, wanting his father to stop acting the way he was. "Longbottom has no reason to lie to me about this. I know it was you who attacked Thorfinn Rowle that night at Lilyre Moon's house."

"Neville Longbottom is imagining things, son." Rabastan replied gently, losing the even nature that his voice had before. "I'm sure he's deeply disturbed by what, well, by what he witnessed as a child, and as such, his mind is not right."

"Mother was right, you are too much of a coward to go against your brother." Despereaux spat, a mix of anger and sadness overcoming him. For the first time in his life, he hated his father not for what he had done in the past but what he couldn't do in the present. "You won't even admit that you've been helping out Neville because you're so afraid of him."

"Cowardice has nothing to do with it, Despereaux." Rabastan shot back, taken being called a coward to heart.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Despereaux growled, and with a loud crack, he disapparated from the scene. Rabastan released a deep sigh and stared at the retreating sun, knowing that he did the right thing by lying to his son. He continued to watch the sunset, and when it passed, he apparated back to his room, knowing that there would be another Death Eater meeting later that night that was to be led by Quirrell as Voldemort had left the country that morning for parts of the world unknown.

There was an attack by Dementors on a human village near London that same night. Unfortunately, no one could get there in time to stop the foul beasts from sucking the souls out of over twenty people. This was part of a recent string of attacks from Dementors, seemingly taking the place of the Death Eater raids. No one in the Order knew why the Dementors were attacking as such, they just hoped that they would be able to get there next time and help out the muggles, who were at such a disadvantage because they couldn't even see the foul beasts that were attacking them.

Kingsley had just finished his report on the Dementor attacks at the meeting the next day, all of the members seemingly disgusted by what they had heard. "Too bad Rapturors aren't still around." Harry muttered, shaking his head at the thought of Dementors. "They'd be able to show those Dementors a thing or two." He said as he scrawled something on a piece of parchment.

"What?" Neville questioned, cocking an eyebrow. He had no idea what a 'Rapturor' was, and the idea of Dementors being shown a thing or two intrigued him greatly. Ever since he was a child and had heard the stories around Azkaban, the disgusting beings or monsters had always spooked him.

"Never mind." Harry waved off what he said, distractedly; he meant nothing of his statements. Then, getting a sense of being watched, he looked around the table, noticing he had everyone's attention; they all looked confused, yet somewhat curious. "Fine," He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "A Rapturor is a being, beast, whatever, that used to exist a little over a thousand years ago. They were the complete antithesis of Dementors, and as such, they were each other's mortal enemies. Where as Dementors bring on coldness, depression, sadness, fear, and loss of hope, Rapturors brought about contentment, satiation, satisfaction, extreme happiness, and indolence. They basically killed you with happiness, and they wrecked havoc on the world and fought a bitter fight against humanity and the Dementors."

"What's wrong with happiness?" Questioned Dedalus Diggle, as if the very thought of people not being happy repulsed him.

"Nothing, but too much happiness, too much complacency makes you want to give up. They, supposedly, would put you in such a state of euphoria, for you saw all your dreams and desires come true when they were around, that you didn't want to do anything but revel in it, and you would go catatonic as a result. Imagine having all of your ambition zapped away from you, and that's what you'd get when a Rapturor came around." Harry answered, seriously, knowing the repercussions of having no will or desire to live.

"What happened to these Rapturors?" Charlie Weasley inquired, interested in learning more. He was fascinated with magical beasts and animals of all kinds, and as a Dragon tamer, he experienced a wide assortment of magical beasts, more so than almost any other profession in the world.

"Well," Harry shrugged, trying to remember what Dumbledore had taught him all those years ago. Not many wizards or witches knew about Rapturors, and those that did rarely ever spoke about them; in that way, they were kind of like Horcrux lore, all but forgotten and unknown to the general public. "Being the enemy of the Dementors, those two species would always fight. And, in the end, the Dementors won and destroyed them. You must know that they were each other's opposites: where as Dementors are black cloak-like and appear in dank, dark places, Rapturors were white and silver cloak-like and appeared in blindingly bright places. Dementors can suck a soul out of a body, and, or legends says, Rapturors could put souls back in the body—though, I don't believe that myself. Legend also says that when a Dementor used its kiss against a Rapturor, they'd either be destroyed or transformed into a Dementor. Also, apparently Rapturors loved the snow because it reflected the sun, making it like heaven to them. Finally, when they would breed it would become hot and muggy, meanwhile, when Dementors do, it becomes cold and foggy."

"Silver and cloak-like," The Ravenclaw Terry Boot murmured, losing himself in thought. "Is that why Patronuses are silver?" He wondered out loud, the excitement at learning more about these Rapturors radiating off of him. While he had been friends with Harry during their Hogwarts days, and had even attended the man's bachelor party and wedding, they had not gotten together in awhile, and he was beginning to think that Harry didn't like him anymore.

"Maybe," Harry shrugged, not really knowing.

"Speaking of Patronuses, how would you stop a Rapturor from doing what it did?" Bill Weasley questioned, erupting a string of nods that showed many people wanted to know the answer to that question.

"That I don't know, though I do know that it's like a Patronus, but instead of good and happy memories, you put in all your hate and anger." Harry replied, honestly. "But don't think they were good just because they were the opposite of Dementors; no, in fact, they were just as evil, greedy, and foul. You would probably be able to get them to help you, though, because they hated Dementors more than they wanted humans."

Many of the Order members began muttering to the people next to them, and Harry, knowing that there was nothing else do discuss for the day, concluded the meeting. Many of the members such as Elphias Doge and Dedalus Diggle began to filter out, leaving only a handful of people who were staying for lunch. There were around ten people in the room, including Harry, and five of them were at the head of the table.

"Bill, can I speak with you for a second?" Harry asked as Bill headed for the stairs up to the kitchen, presumably to ask Dobby for something specific for lunch.

"Of course, Harry." Bill replied, stepping over to where Harry was sitting.

Harry stayed silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before he began. "I need you to find the name of Tom Riddle in Gringotts' records." Harry said, lowly, not wanting Sturgis Podmore and his friend, Terry Boot, from hearing what he was saying. "I need you to find out if he's ever had a vault within the bank."

"Okay," Bill replied. "Any reason why?" He questioned, having never heard the name before. Though, with what was happening around the wizarding world, he knew it was somehow connected, for Harry wouldn't waste time if it weren't.

Harry looked up at Bill, giving the man a small smile. "It's like Dumbledore once told me: very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. He sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy at Hogwarts." Harry recited, remembering the conversation that he had with Albus during his seventh year as if it was yesterday.

All those near to him—George and Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Sirius Black, and Terry Boot, who had barely heard Harry over his conversation with Podmore—cocked an eyebrow, confused. They knew Harry was working on something, something that would hopefully end the war against Voldemort, but what could the Dark Lord possibly have in his vault? Was it really, truly efficient to look in Gringotts, instead of doing something else? Knowing that he wouldn't tell, even if they questioned why, they decided to drop it, trusting that Harry knew what he was doing. And Harry did know what he was doing: he was going to break into Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

AN: Here is a list of Death Eaters and Order members, in case you were interested or have forgotten. The Death Eaters are listed in terms of rank, with the highest at the beginning and the lowest at the end. The Order members are in no specific order.

Deatheaters: Crouch, Quirrell, Pettigrew, Bellatrix, Travers, Dolohov, Rodolphus, Macnair, Gibbon, Avery (the father), Snape, Rabastan, Mulciber, Jugson, the Carrows (2), the Crabbes (2), the Goyles (2), Stephen Cornfoot, Rosier, Kylie, the Notts, Greyback, Yaxley, Avery (the son), Marcus Flint, Graham Montague, Pansy Parkinson, and Cade Warrington.

Dead or captured: Rookwood, Zacharias Smith, Thorfinn Rowle, Selwyn, and Scabior.

Defected: Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa Malfoy.

Spies/disloyal: Kylie, Snape, and Rosier.

The Order: Harry, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Cedric, Hermione, Viktor, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, Kingsley, Severus Snape, Hestia Jones, Emmeline Vance, Kylie, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore, Boderick Bode, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Terry Boot, Gaetana Robards, Wayne Hopkins, Lilyre Moon, Aberforth Dumbledore, Despereaux Barnaud and Neville Longbottom.

Dead or inactive: Dumbledore, Roger, Hagrid, and McGonagall.

Disloyal member: Tynan Davis.


	33. With a Huff and a Puff

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Sorry for the long wait, but here it is and its just the beginning of a few chapters that will take this story on a roller coaster.

S/N 2: Uh-oh, what's going to happen? Did Kylie unwittingly cause trouble for Harry in a previous chapter? I've been setting up the ending for this chapter for a long, long time.

Chapter 33: With a Huff and a Puff, I'll Steal the Cup Now

"I found it, Harry." Bill Weasley exclaimed, coming down into the basement of 12 Grimmauld Place the next morning. Harry was sitting at the far end of the table, drinking a mug of hot tea as he read the Daily Prophet, but he did not immediately respond to Bill's pronouncement. "I searched through the records and found out that Tom Riddle's vault number is 864. Coincidentally, McGonagall's vault is near his at number 858."

"864? That's deeper than I thought it would be." Harry looked up from his paper, staring at Bill with his intense green gaze; a plan was formulating in his mind, one that he hoped would allow him to get through this unscathed. "I'm going to need Minerva to go to her vault to get me down there." He muttered to himself, seemingly forgetting there were people in the room. "We walk in together, me under a disillusionment charm, she goes down to her vault and then leaves, while I stay…then I head over to vault 864, break in, and hope to Merlin I can get out after."

"What?" George squeaked in surprise, turning his attention to Harry. "You never told us you were going into Gringotts to rob the damn thing!"

"Why else would I ask for Lord Voldemort's own personal vault?" Harry questioned, rhetorically, ignoring their shivers at the mention of Voldemort's name. Most members of the Order had still not overcome their fear of the name Voldemort, a fact that surprised Harry because all of them were so brave and courageous. While the rest of the occupants had look of surprise and fear on their faces, Sirius stood off to the side and smiled, knowing that for Harry to be crazy enough to try and break into Gringotts that the cup of Hufflepuff must have been in there. He knew that no matter what he said, Harry would not change his mind, so instead of fighting or arguing, he decided to say silent and help if and when he was asked.

"Tom Riddle is the Dark Lord?" Bill Weasley replied, shaking off Harry's use of the Dark Lord's name. He was still filled with fear every time he heard it, remembering the days of his childhood when he would lay in his bed, wondering if his father would make it back to the Burrow from work that night or if the Death Eaters had killed him. "You're out of your gourd, Potter." He muttered, thinking that Harry was crazy for even thinking about trying to break in.

"It can't be done, Harry." Hermione scolded, always the knowledgeable one. "The goblins take great pride in their security."

Harry chuckled at their ignorance, taking another sip out of his mug—he had a nervous but confident demeanor about him. "Oh, but it already has happened before, Hermione, as Professor Quirrell did it ten years ago when we were just entering our first year at Hogwarts. The vault he broke into, however, was already emptied, but I'm hoping the one I'm going in for won't be."

"Quirrell?" Hermione gasped, remembering hearing about the break-in when she first found out that she was a witch and had entered her rightful place in the world. It had been all over the headlines, and before now, she thought it went unsolved. "He was the one who did that?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "He was tutored through it by Voldemort, but still…someone did break into Gringotts." Harry then rose from his seat and grabbed his ebony wand that was on the table, preparing himself to leave. The wand was his natural wand that he had used since he was eleven years old, not the Elder Wand as he rarely ever took it out of his workshop; that was his ace in the hole, and as such, he would not reveal that he had it just yet. There would come a time where he would use it, but he knew that that time would not be coming for a few more weeks. "I'm going to go and do a little reconnaissance work, one of you make sure that Minerva is here tomorrow morning around nine o'clock, okay?" They all nodded hesitantly. "Oh, and make sure this stays between us five, okay? I don't want people to know about this." He walked up the stairs, leaving the foursome alone. They each looked at one another wearily, before shaking their heads and going back to their work; Hermione left the house soon after, having a fourth year transfiguration class that was to start in just a half an hour.

Arriving at the apparation point of Diagon Alley, Harry slowly walked out of the side alley and turned left, heading straight towards the building known as Gringotts. Unlike they normally would, his eyes never shifted around at the different shops and stores, nor did he smile at the eclectic mix of witches and wizards who scurried about, instead his attention was locked solely on the large, white goblin-run bank that hovered majestically in the distance in front of him. He liked the feeling of purpose that he carried in these situations—it gave him clarity of mind and allowed him to focus better. An Auror waved to him as he passed, but with his mind fully on his mission, he did not see it and he unintentionally snubbed the Auror, who cursed Harry out underneath his breath as Harry continued to walk.

"Young and foolhardy." The gray-haired old man whispered, coming up behind Harry as he walked through Diagon Alley. He was seemingly heading towards Gringotts himself, though Harry knew not what business he had there. "Arrogant, too, maybe? Thinking you can actually break into the wizard's bank."

Harry's eyes flicked over to the cloaked wizard, but he continued on his path; his lips pursed in concentration. "Like you actually could?" Harry rebutted, anger briefly overcoming him and making him overlook the fact that the old man impossibly knew what he was doing when only four other people in the world did. "Listen, can you at least help me, rather than ridicule me?"

The man stayed silent for a moment, internally reviewing what Harry had asked. Then, with a sigh, he said, "Use the Finxisional charm when breaking into the vault." Right after he finished his sentence, he veered off into Knockturn Alley and Harry went up the steps and opened the door to Gringotts. _Finxisional charm,_ Harry questioned in his mind, having never heard of the charm, _I wonder what that is_.

After entering the building, he waited for a goblin to become available, and then headed down to his own vault with the intention of seeing if he could feel the charms and curses that were cast upon it. He stepped out of the cart when it stopped, and inconspicuously waved his wand underneath his cloak, testing out the wards that were around the vault: there were a lot, which made him cringe in apprehension. He watched the goblin run his stumpy finger over the door, and due to the spells that he had previously performed, he could feel the wards disappearing—slowly retreating back before being enveloped by the other magicks of Gringotts. He reached into his vault and grabbed a few galleons, trying to keep up the appearance of normalcy, rather than doing anything that would cause the goblins to be suspecting.

Ten minutes later found Harry out of Gringotts and perusing the shelves of 'Flourish and Blotts,' searching for a book about goblin magic. After his search ended in futility, he left the store and headed towards the apparation point, knowing who he would need to go in order to learn more about goblins than he knew: Dirk Cresswell, Goblin Liaison for the Ministry. He threw a look to the old man, who stood leaning against the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, staring at Harry through his hooded cloak. With a slight shake of his head, the old man wished Harry good luck, then turned and entered the pub, presumably to get a drink. Harry on the other hand apparated to the Ministry of Magic, hoping Cresswell was still in his office and had not already left for the day.

Like a man on a mission, Harry rushed towards the Beasts and Beings division of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in Ministry, smiling and waving to the people he knew, but keeping a brisk pace. He gave a dark look to Walden Macnair, a wizard long suspected of being a Death Eater within the Ministry—who, in return, just gave an arrogant smirk, as if he was untouchable. Shaking his head as Macnair walked away, Harry entered the main office of the Department, and smiled as he bumped into Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. "Ah, Harry, how are you, my boy?"

"I'm grand, Amos, how are you?" Harry replied distractedly, hoping that the conversation did not go long. It wasn't that he didn't like Amos, for he did, it was just a matter of prudence.

"Fine, fine. Just going over to meet with my Cedric for dinner, says he has something special to talk to me and his mother about." Amos smiled, giddy at the prospect of seeing his son: Amos loved Cedric more than anything in the world, and showed his pride for him on his sleeve everyday of his life. "What are you doing all the way down here in my neck of the woods?"

"Just coming to deliver something to a friend." Harry lied, patting his pocket as if the item he supposedly needed to deliver was in there. He took a step closer to Amos and put his hand on the man's shoulder, giving him a large grin. "Say hello to Cedric and your wife for me, will you? We'll have to get together soon; I miss Mrs. Diggory's cooking, you know."

"I'm sure you'll be too busy, Harry, but I'll give my wife your regards." Amos replied, giving Harry's arm a squeeze. Then, without saying another word, he took a step around Harry and left the office, leaving Harry to his own devices.

Harry continued onto the Goblin Liaison office, which was just a little ways down the hall. As he neared the door to Cresswell's office, it opened on its own and a yellow paper airplane flew out, which then zoomed through the air and out of the department, entering the lifts on the other side of the hall. Giving the wooden door a slight knock, he gave the secretary, Abigail Tulsey, a warm smile, hoping to get in and out without any sort of problems. "Hello, Ms. Tulsey."

"Mr. Potter," Abigail replied from under her glasses. She was a pleasant witch, with blonde haired that was wrapped in a bun and violet eyes. She was a little bit older than Harry was, having graduated Hogwarts two years before Harry entered, but she was still relatively young considering the longer lifespan of wizarding folk. "I hope I'm not under arrest or anything. After all, isn't that what you big, bad Hitwizards do? Arrest people?" She inquired, twirling her eagle feather quill in her hand suggestively.

"Only to those who need arresting." Harry grinned, inching into the office. Then, looking to Dirk's door, he said, "Is Mr. Cresswell in?"

"Yes," Abigail nodded, looking down at her schedule. She ran a finger over the list of things to do for the day and nodded, saying, "He's free for the next hour if you need to talk to him."

"I do, thank you." Harry replied, heading towards the door. "Can I just go in or…" Seeing her nod, he smiled and knocked on the wooden door. Hearing a muffled 'come in,' he turned the knob and took a step into the office, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Mr. Cresswell, how are you?"

"Ah, Harry Potter." Dirk Cresswell said, rising from his desk to shake Harry's hand. "Is there something that you needed? Its not every day a member of the Hitwizard squad comes down here, especially in these dark, dark times. I hope my brother did everything to your specifications on your home, I made sure he worked to the best of his ability on that project."

"Yes, well," Harry frowned, taking the offered seat in front of the desk. "He did extremely well, I thank you for that. I had a few questions about goblin magic, though, and I thought who better to answer those questions than you?"

"Is something the matter with a goblin, or is this strictly personal?" Dirk questioned, hoping a goblin hadn't done something wrong; that would be a lot of work and a lot of forms to fill out for him.

"Personal." Harry supplied, knowing just what it was Dirk was thinking; he didn't need his legilimency skills for that. "I was wondering, in terms of power, which is stronger: a house elf's or a goblin's? Would goblin magic even recognize a house elf?" He questioned, wondering if Zeali would be able to help him out in anyway.

"Between you and me," Dirk whispered, leaning forward in his chair. "The goblins look at house elves as a lower life form, so no to your question. I doubt a goblin ward would pick up a house elf, to be honest. I might be wrong about that, the goblins aren't exactly open to having a wizard ask those kinds of questions. As for which is stronger, well, that's a much tougher question since magic is just magic. Its how we use it that decides how strong something is or not—what I mean to say is that all magic is equal, whether it comes from an elf, a wizard, a goblin, a vampire, etc. What matters, however, are the social constructs that are put around it. Take house elves, for example: most wizards look down on them, and as a result their magic is thought upon as weaker and inferior, but in truth it is the same as a wizards and in some ways might be even better because we ignore it so often."

Harry nodded, soaking all the information in. Dirk wasn't saying anything he didn't already know or believe in, for Dumbledore had lectured him many times about the nature of magic over the years. "And do you know any specific spells that work the best on goblin magic?"

Dirk uncomfortably shifted in his seat, looking at Harry pointedly. "Weak spells help." He acknowledged after a slight pause, still a little weary by Harry's question. "Since they only prepare themselves for the most powerful of wizards to attack them, they completely forget to protect themselves from the weaker wizards or witches. When it comes down to it, Harry, goblins are very arrogant creatures; just as arrogant as we are in their eyes, though they would never admit it."

Harry nodded, smiled, and rose to his feet. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Cresswell, you were a big help."

"Not a problem, not a problem." Dirk replied, looking up at Harry. His eyes went wide, however, as Harry pulled his ebony wand out on him, holding it a few inches from his face. "What the…"

"I'm sorry, but no one must know that I was here." Harry said, frowning, sincerely sorry for what he was about to do. "Obliviate!" As the spell hit, Dirk's eyes glazed over, and he completely forgot the last hour and Harry's presence in his office. Harry turned around and walked to the door, exiting into receptionist office quickly. "Ms. Tulsey," He asked, giving her another warm smile, gripping his wand underneath his cloak. "Does anyone else know besides you and Mr. Cresswell that I was here today? Did you tell anyone while I was meeting with Dirk?"

"No," She shook her head, gasping as Harry said obliviate, wiping out her memories of the past hour. As the glaze from the spell retreated, Harry was already gone, and for all they knew, he was never there in the first place.

Pulling his hood over his head, Harry walked out of the apparation point of Knockturn Alley and entered _Borgin and Burkes_; it's dank and dark atmosphere immediately flooded his senses. His eyes roamed over the many items and contraptions, though his hand never grazed over any, knowing that some of these things were dangerous and could potentially kill him. Two warlocks were up at the counter, paying for their selections, allowing Harry some privacy as Borgin was collecting their galleons. As he was losing hope in finding the one thing that he needed, his eyes came to a golden chalice that was ingrained with black diamonds. It wasn't an exact match to the chalice that he desired, but it was believable enough and had certain properties that could mimic Hufflepuff's cup better than anything else could. He grabbed the chalice and then turned and looked for a silver headpiece; it didn't need to be a tiara, he just needed something that he could transfigure. After a few minutes of looking, a silver headband was what he decided upon, and taking both of his items up to the counter, he gave a grunt to Borgin.

"Twenty galleons, seven sickles." Borgin barked out in his oily voice, running a wand over the two items and releasing the anti-theft charms. Borgin was a greasy-haired, stooping man who, contrary to popular belief, was a proud proprietor, albeit a rude one. He wasn't evil, nor did he willingly let objects that were meant to kill inside his shop: a dark wizard, maybe, but not that bad or on a comparable level to a Death Eater. He did, however, believe in blood purity, but did not throw muggleborns or halfbloods out of his shop like Caractacus Burke was well known to do.

"That cheap?" Harry questioned, surprised by the frugal price. Before entering the store, he had thought he would be throwing down a few hundred galleons for them, since most of the stuff within _Borgin and Burkes_ was incredibly overpriced; in addition to his hatred of mudbloods, Caractacus Burke was not known for his generosity, either. In fact, Caractacus Burke was so ruthless of a businessman that he was voted the worst shop owner in the Daily Prophet's annual poll for the last fifteen years.

Borgin looked up at Harry, squinting his eyes to see through the shadow across Harry's face that his hood created. "Potter," He whispered, recognizing that voice anywhere. Harry, along with Draco Malfoy, had been one of his best customers over the last few years, always coming to buy a new dark arts book or some odd thing every couple of months. Of course, it wasn't the quantity of the items Harry bought that made him one of Borgin's most cherished customers, but the quality; he always got something in the hundreds of galleons price range. "Why all the secrecy? Your secrets have always been and will always be safe with me."

"It's the Dark Lord." Harry replied, tilting his head to the side. He gripped his wand under his cloak, using his left hand to place twenty-one galleons on the counter and then took the bag that held his items from Borgin gratefully. "I'm sorry." He said, pointing his wand between Borgin's eyes. "Obliviate," he whispered, and then quickly after added, "Legilimens." He not only erased Borgin's memory of Harry buying the chalice and the headband, but also changed them to show a vampire purchasing them instead, just so no one would be able to question their disappearance.

Immediately, Harry went back to his home and straight to one of his hidden rooms that only Tonks knew about, intent on planning for the coming day. He reached for one of his ward books, one that Dumbledore had given him after he had graduated Hogwarts, and flipped open to the index, looking for the Finxisional charm. The book's pages turned on their own, by magic, speeding past wards and opening charms, before they abruptly stopped on a page that had writing only in the middle of it. It read in black ink and cursive writing, _"Finxisional charm: disenchants various forms of key related magic. Used mainly on goblin locks, it allows the user's wand to take on the characteristics of the 'key' that unlocks a lock. It will not work on most human locking curses and jinxes."_

Harry cocked an eyebrow, surprised by what it said. "Convenient," he muttered to himself, wondering if this would make his time in the bank easier or not. After all, the goblins surely knew about the charm as well, and as such, would take the proper precautions to protect the vaults against it.

He then gathered a magically expanded bag, which was able to hold more than the outside dimensions seemed to allow: it was small and slightly furry. The bag was a mokeskin, with charms placed on it that prevented anyone other than the owner from getting into it—they were rare and hard to come by. He moved about the room, gathering everything that he thought he would need and placed them on the work desk. Then, in the mokeskin bag, he placed the chalice he had bought just hours ago, a shrunken broom, and his invisibility cloak. The silver headband that he had bought along with the chalice sat next to the Diadem of Ravenclaw, untouched since Harry had put it there when he first got back from Knockturn Alley. He stared at it for a brief moment, knowing that it was his secondary plan if Hagrid was unable to get Acromantula venom for him, though he hoped it would not come to that. Rubbing his forehead, trying to think of anything else he would need to do or get, he flicked his wand at the wall and turned off all the lights. He left the room and headed towards his bedroom, where Tonks was getting ready for bed, with the hopes of getting a good night's sleep.

An hour later found Harry and Nymphadora lying close to each other in their bed, still awake. Nymphadora was biting her lip in worry, having heard what Harry's plan was just moments before. "Are you sure it is there, Harry? Do you realize what would happen to you if you were caught?"

"I won't get caught, Nymphie." Harry soothed, kissing her head. "And no, I'm not sure, but what if it is?" He sighed, bringing her closer to him. "I can't think of any other place where it would be, Nymphie. Honestly, if its not there, I don't know what I'm going to do. It is the last place I can look, and quite frankly, if its not there then we are in a lot of trouble."

The next morning, a confident Harry Potter waited in the study of Grimmauld place for Minerva McGonagall to floo in from Hogwarts. Tonks, Bill, George, Sirius, and Hermione all sat with him, each glancing at the young wizard with a nervousness that he himself wasn't showing. They all believed that what he was about to do was suicide, and if he did survive, he would surely get caught; since, after all, breaking in and out of Gringotts successfully was all but impossible. Finally, as the silence became too much, Bill said, "I could go with you, you know. I have experience with some of the curses that are on the vaults."

"No," Harry shook his head, flicking his eyes over to the redheaded wizard. "We can't have you get caught; we need someone inside Gringotts. I go alone." The flames in the fireplace erupted green, and out stumbled Minerva, looking older than she had ever looked before; being Headmistress of Hogwarts was obviously getting to her. "Ah, Minerva." Harry said, rising to his feet to greet the witch.

"Potter," McGonagall replied, curtly. Underneath her eyes were saggy bags, which added to her already haggard appearance, showing to the world just how tired she was. "What is it that I have to do? Hermione told me you needed me to go to my vault for Order business."

Harry bit his lip, having rehearsed what he was going to say throughout breakfast that morning. "Yes, I am meeting a goblin down in the vault tubes, but I can't be seen…secrecy is needed, he relayed to me. And the only vault that we know of near where he wanted to meet was yours, so I asked Hermione to ask you. All you need to do is walk into Gringotts naturally, go to your vault, take a few galleons out of it, and then leave. I'll simply be following you all the while, and when you get off of the cart to go to your vault, I will as well, except I won't get back on and you will. I'll be, of course, under a disillusionment charm so no one will see me." He raised his wand, and tapped his head, allowing the cool feeling of the charm to overtake him.

Unlike most disillusionment charms, this one allowed Harry to go completely unseen, as if he was wearing an invisibility cloak but without the hassle of needing to secure the cloak on him or the risk of having a part of his body left uncovered. Dumbledore had taught it to Harry, and it was so powerful that Harry only knew of two people who could do it: Voldemort and himself. It wasn't only a difficult spell to perform, but it also took more magical energy than most people had or could muster. In addition to the disillusionment charm, he also performed a few spells to make sure his shoes did not echo off of the stone ground and no other noise emanated from him, preventing anyone from hearing him as well. Overall, he focused a lot of attention on keeping himself hidden, making sure that if he were to be caught, it would be by a ward trapping him, not by someone spying him.

"Shall we then, Potter?" McGonagall said, looking at the space Harry was just occupying. The spell was good, she admitted, immediately noticing that she couldn't even see an outline of Harry like you normally could with a wizard who was under a disillusionment spell.

"Yeah, just one second." Harry said from his spot next to Tonks, having moved over to her invisibly. He ran a hand along her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. The fear that was inside of her for Harry's safety was almost unbearable, and if she wasn't an Auror who stared death in the face almost everyday, she would probably crumble under that fear. "I'll be back, don't worry." He whispered, and then in a louder voice, he said, "Ready when you are. When we apparate to Diagon Alley, just walk to Gringotts normally, I'll be behind you the whole way."

McGonagall nodded and disapparated out to the apparation point of Diagon Alley with a loud crack. "See you all soon." Harry said, before he too disapparated, appearing right next to McGonagall a second later. "I'm here." He whispered, letting her know that she could go.

"Be careful, Potter, if the other goblins catch you, you're as good as dead." She muttered, walking into the main lane of Diagon Alley and heading straight for Gringotts. Harry kept pace with her, taking extra care to not bump into anyone; out of the corner of his eye he could see the old man watching McGonagall from afar, clearly knowing that Harry was going in today. A minute passed, and before she stepped into the building, she said, "Good luck." She threw open the large bank doors, making sure it was of a wide enough berth to allow Harry through as well, and strolled into the building. Walking straight to a free goblin that was counting a few jewels and the like up on his bench, she said, "I would like to see my vault, please."

"Key please." The goblin, one named Traknud, replied, looking down at Minerva with a hint of disgust. Minerva fiddled through the pockets of her robes, taking out a brass key a few seconds later and handing it over to the goblin. Traknud ran a clawed finger over it, saying a spell—which Harry made an effort to hear—which made three numbers appear in gold writing on the shaft of the key. "858, let's go." Traknud garbled, jumping down from his desk and walking to the lifts that would speed them down into the vault chambers. The goblin stepped on first, and then, slowly as to make sure Harry had enough time, McGonagall pulled herself on, as well. Harry tapped McGonagall's shoulder to show that he was on, too, and then got down on his knees, making sure he was hidden.

Traknud looked at the place Harry was crouching, having sensed something, but shrugged it off, as he didn't see anything. With a great jolt, the cart sped away, weaving in and out of the different turns until they came to an abrupt halt, stopping in front of a large, metal vault, with the number '858' sprawled above it. "McGonagall vault." Traknud called out, stepping off the cart and limping over to the door. He stuck the key into a small slot, moved his hand up to the middle of the vault, and ran a finger down the center of it, saying, "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried this, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there." As he finished, the door seemed to melt away, revealing a heap of gold galleons, silver knuts, and bronze sickles, as well as various other items that were fastened to the walls or were hanging on shelves.

Harry shivered at what Traknud said as he stepped off the cart, not wanting that to happen to him; though he did take precautions to make sure that if it did happen, he had a way out. He looked over to the vault directly to the right of Minerva's and saw that it was '859', and then began to walk that way, knowing 864 couldn't be that far off. The walkway was thin and narrow, barely wide enough to fit a goblin, let alone a grown wizard. A few times Harry almost fell into the cart railway, but luckily he managed to regain his balance before he did. As he passed 862, he heard a great roar from a dragon, and he could have sworn he saw a searing river of flames protrude from an alcove a few hundred feet away, but it could have been his mind playing tricks on him. Then, with a great rise of excitement in his belly, he stepped in front of 864: Tom Riddle's vault.

He looked each and every way, making sure that no one was coming or knew of his presence; carts whizzed and turned down the tubes, but none came his way. Taking out his wand and the small mokeskin bag that was in his pocket, he prepared himself for what was to come—it was do or die time, there was no backing out now, his only options were getting into the vault and getting out safely or death. Taking a deep breath, he muttered a spell and threw himself headlong into his plan. He twirled his wand, saying, "Claudo Revelio", and closed his eyes, concentrating on the wards and curses that would appear to him. _Oh, Merlin, what have I got myself into_, he thought to himself as he opened his eyes, having seen only about half of the curses on the vault.

"Alohomora." Harry recited, wondering if Dirk was right in thinking easy spells would work. Unfortunately, as Harry had expected, the spell didn't work. "Aperio." Harry recited, and gave a smile of surprised when he heard a soft click, though the door was still closed. _Must have been the lock that is opened by the key_, he thought to himself.

Suddenly, there was a pulse from the door, and he swished his wand quickly, reciting a counter spell as a jinx began to take effect. He gave a sigh of relief as he felt that curse fall apart, preventing it from hurting him or doing any damage to the environment around him. For the next five minutes, he whipped his wand about, canceling all the curses, wards, and gates that he knew how to, understanding that he needed to hurry if he was going to get out without being seen. Then, feeling the last ward break down, he bit his lip, and said, "Finxisionux." His wand tip glowed a dull brown, and he dragged it down the center of the vault, hearing click after click from behind the golden door. His joy went away when he was halfway through, however, as a black lightning bolt-like beam shot out from the door, hitting him on the right side of his stomach, just an inch below his ribs.

His eyes went wide as the pain from the bolt took effect, and he quickly removed his wand from the vault door to take action against the curse. His wand twirled around the blackened wound, which would eventually spread up and down his body quickly, stopping it from becoming larger than the softball size it already was; it had burned straight through his clothes and into his skin. Knowing how close he was to his prize and forgetting about the pain that was becoming more and more excruciating by the second, he whispered "Expositiumodo," a more powerful 'Aperio' charm, and grinned roughly as the vault door melted away—the pain of the curse was making his breathing slow and painful as his magic rigorously tried to fight back the curse that was overcoming his midsection.

Inside the vault was a single risen platform, with a small, leather box resting on the top of it. With one hand gripping his wound, his eyes shifted each everyway down the cart tubes, and upon seeing that it was okay to go, Harry took a step into the vault. As soon as the sole of his shoe touched the dirtied metal floor, a burning sensation erupted within his foot, and he immediately jumped back onto the stone walkway. "Flagrante Curse," He mumbled in agony, as the pain from his cursed side started to muddle his thoughts. Staring at the box, he contemplated on what to do: he was so close, so near to it that he could almost feel the Horcrux from where he was standing. Doubting it would work, he said, "Accio box," and as he previously thought, nothing happened. Then, with a swish and a flick of his wand, he muttered, "Wingardium Leviosa." Again, nothing happened.

He had to hurry, he knew, because his spells would only keep the curse that had infected him sedated for a little while longer. Plus, he had been there for ten minutes, and he doubted the carts that began to whiz by him would continue to leave him unnoticed. Finally, deciding on a course of action, he threw out his ebony wand and said "Ascendare," which, surprisingly, threw the box up into the air. Then, adding quickly, he whispered "Arresto Momentum," which managed to stop the box's decent to the point where it was moving at an almost standstill pace. "Carpe Rectratum," Harry murmured, watching as the box flew towards him.

_No one ever thinks to protect their things against magicks that aren't as popular as the better-known spells_, he thought to himself; though, of course, the spells he had used weren't known to most wizards and witches as it was. He grabbed the leather box when it was just an arm's length away, knowing that if Voldemort were to curse the outside of the box, then he too would fall victim to it. Inside the box, however, was a different story, and Harry doubted there wasn't something nasty waiting for him to open it. He took a deep breath, trying to contain both his excitement and his agonizing pain, but all it did was make it worse.

Pointing his wand directly at the leather box, he said, "Finite Mora Incantatem," which would hopefully undo the curses and jinxes that were inside. Deciding to take a chance, he opened the box with a simple "Cistem Aperio" charm, which was almost the same as the normal Aperio charm, except it directed the magic to a specific target; the target in this case being 'Cistem,' also known as a box. With a golden glow, the box slowly opened, revealing a small, golden goblet with two finely wrought handles, and an engraving of a black badger.

"Hufflepuff's cup," Harry said to himself in slurred speech; his mind felt as if it were on fire, and he knew that his lungs were being infected by the curse and he was not getting enough oxygen. Reaching into the bag that was in his pocket and taking out the gold cup that he had bought at _Borgin and Burkes _the day before, he transfigured it to be an exact replica of Hufflepuff's cup, which Harry hoped would be able to trick the goblins into thinking that nothing was stolen if they ever checked. He could use the Gemino Curse, which would duplicate Hufflepuff's cup, but goblins knew the difference between a duplicate and the real thing just by looking at it. By doing it this way, he hoped that they wouldn't see any noticeable differences at first glance and instead it would take a lengthy inspection in order to realize that it was not the original.

He tentatively reached for the real Hufflepuff goblet, took its golden handles, and gently picked it up. A wave of happiness over took him as he rushed to put the transfigured cup in the place the real one was occupying just seconds before. Throwing the real cup into the bag, he removed his shrunken broom and invisibility cloak from it, and placed it on the ground next to him—he stuffed the bag back into his pocket after he was done with it, tucking it away and making sure that he didn't leave anything behind. He resealed the leather box, now with a fake cup inside, and held it in his right hand. "Ladewasi," He said, hoping to levitate the box back onto its pedestal. As with the spells he used to get the box in the first place, the Wasi spell was one that would move an item wherever you directed it; and it too wasn't well known, being outshined by the more common Banishing and Levitation charms that were taught to Hogwarts students. Slowly the box flew over to the platform, landing on it without a sound, almost in the exact same spot it was before. As he turned to finish off his work, his vision blurred and he stumbled a bit, but managed to stay standing. Knowing that he didn't have much time, he pointed his wand towards the golden vault door, which was protruding from the wall slightly, and said "Finite," and it closed in on itself in response, blocking view of all from the contents that laid inside.

Just as he turned to prepare himself for departure, his cursed side roared out in pain: every move that he made felt as if a thousand hot knives were stabbing him; every breath that he took felt like it was concrete he was inhaling and not oxygen. He staggered forward once again, and if he didn't brace himself against the wall, he would have fallen down to the stone floor. He knew what was happening to him, but he could not think of anyway to stop it; his mind and judgment were cloudy, and his thought processes were degenerating minute by minute. If he didn't leave soon, he knew that the curse would make him into a stuttering buffoon and he would eventually pass out, he just didn't know when that would come.

Running his wand over his broom, it grew to its normal size and levitated up to waist level. He grabbed his invisibility cloak and wrapped it tightly around the broom, knowing that even though the disillusionment charm that was placed on him allowed him not to be seen, the broom still could be. Jumping onto his now invisible broom, he flew forward towards the exit, passing close to a four hundred vaults before he stopped in front of a random one. Then, with the pain of his curse preventing him from thinking clearly, he pointed his wand towards vault number 223 and said, "Reducto." He watched as the curse sailed towards the metal and just before it hit, the wards around the door contracted and absorbed the curse, sounding a sonic wail around the bank.

Flying as fast as he possibly could, he left the vault tubes, accomplishing both his mission of getting a Horcrux of Voldemort and of alerting the goblins. He then entered the vast marble hall of Gringotts, and gave a small cough in satisfaction when he saw that the goblins were rushing about, gathering their arms to face the intruder who dared try and rob them; the various witches and wizards inside the bank looked around, confusedly, having not experienced or witnessed anything like that ever before. Leaning forward, he pointed his wand towards the door and they flew open, granting him access to the outside. As he neared the doors, a golden light began to emit from the halls, sealing all the exits, but unfortunately for them, Harry had just made it out.

Once he was outside, he flew high up into the air, reaching the clouds, before descending down to the ground and landing in an abandoned alleyway. Grabbing his side, his magic having been finally overpowered by curse, he apparated to Grimmauld Place and appeared in the living room that Tonks, George and Bill Weasley, Hermione, and Sirius were sitting in, waiting for him to arrive back home. They all jumped when he appeared, noticing his pale complexion, saggy eyes, and the large black wound he was gripping on the side of his abdomen. "My workshop…gold vial…Condicto Cocktail," he whispered, before falling forward onto the floor, passing out unconscious and on the verge of death.

AN: I told you the condicto cocktail would come back. Here is the etymology for the spells of my own invention-

**Claudo Revelio: **Claudo, which is confine in Latin, and Revelio, which means reveal in Latin. It basically reveals all fences, gates, and wards in a given area, just as Homenum revelio reveals humans.

**Finxisional Charm:** The spell is activated by holding the wand up to the ward and saying "Finxisionux." It comes from Finxi, which is Latin meaning, "to touch," and Vision, which as you know is English and means, "to see." What it means is that the ward sees the touch of the wand as the same as it would the key that actually opens the door, and the wand mimics the effects the key would have.

**Expositiumodo: **Expositus, which is Latin for open, and Modo, which is also Latin and means now. It does exactly what it says; it opens the door/gate/whatever right then.

**Ladewasi: **Lade, German for box, and Vas y, which is French and means "go there." There was a spell called Wasi in the books that Lupin used to get gum out of a key hole, which I thought was cool, so I took it and enhanced it to be a much more powerful spell that can be shaped to move things that the people desire it to, such as a box or a book, etc.


	34. Doom

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Sorry for the long wait, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

S/N 2: Well, it's coming to an end. This is a set up chapter, and by my count, there should only be another three chapters left in the story, with perhaps a few chapters afterwards to serve as an epilogue. Just so you know, everything that is to come is hidden within this chapter and the next one, see if you can figure it out.

Chapter 34: Doom…

Immediately, they all ran to the downed wizard, each with nothing but worry lining their faces. Tonks dropped to her knees and rolled Harry onto his back, lifting the wizard's head gently onto her lap. "Harry, hunny, wake up." She whispered, rubbing his cheek with her left hand as tears rushed to her eyes, begging to be let go. Her gaze shifted over to Hermione, who was lifting up Harry's shirt, inspecting the wound that he had been gripping: it was black, and was slowly moving up and down his body. At the moment, it was about the size of a cantaloupe, but it would grow, and when it did, when it reached his vital organs, he'd surely be dead.

Hermione knew she had to act quickly: she flicked her wand out and cut Harry's shirt off of him, allowing everyone to see the wound, which resulted in an audible gasp. "Go and get the vial he mentioned, Sirius!" She barked, and the wizard ran to the floo and disappeared in a torrent of green flames a second later.

Upon reaching Harry's fireplace, Sirius sprinted as fast as he could to the workshop, skidding to a halt in front of the bookshelf. Seeing the parseltongue book, he pulled on its spine and opened the secret door that was behind the bookshelf. Very few people knew about this room, only around five or six, and even fewer people knew about the other rooms that were hidden; in order for those rooms to be opened, different books had to be pulled, a clever charm that granted a lot of security to Harry's secrets. Sirius quickly scanned the table as he searched for the gold vial, and then moved over to the shelves: it wasn't there. He checked by some potion ingredients that were in a canvas bag that Harry had just bought, but there was no gold potion within. He desperately rummaged through the drawers of the desk, hoping that it was somewhere within them: again, nothing.

Cursing to the heavens, Sirius ran back to the fireplace and flooed back to Grimmauld Place. "It wasn't there!" He breathlessly said, speculating if Harry was delirious or had just mistaken where he had put the vial.

Hermione was still working on Harry, trying all the magic that she knew to stop the wound from moving; her wealth of knowledge, however, was quickly running dry. She ran her wand over Harry's body again, muttering incantations all the while, fighting the curse with whatever spells she thought would work. "The Condicto Cocktail," she said, keeping her attention fully on the wound. "Is something I don't know how…I can't make it."

Sirius gulped down the lump that was in his throat, the realization of the fact that not only could he not make the potion but he hadn't even heard about it before that point, quickly consuming him. "Can either of you?" Sirius questioned, whirling around and staring at Bill and George. Both the Weasleys shook their head slowly, glancing down at Harry's body, wondering what was going to happen to their friend.

"Sirius, floo call Snape, get him to make it." Tonks cried, holding Harry's head in her lap. If neither Sirius nor Hermione could make it, then surely Snape—who was one of the best in the world when it came to potions—could. Sirius' eyes went wide with disgust, and he began to shake his head, but he stopped as Tonks' voice rang out through the air. "What's more important, you're pride or Harry's life?" She screamed, looking at him with her angry and worried eyes. Hermione shivered at the loudness that penetrated her ears, but continued to swish her wand above Harry's wound.

With a fire in his stomach and his hatred for Snape released for the moment, Sirius jetted over to the fireplace, threw the green floo powder into the fire and called out "Snape's office." Appearing in the darkened stone room, his eyes roamed about, searching for the office's owner. Sitting at his desk was the longhaired, sallow, bat-like wizard, who was one of the best potion makers in the world and possibly Harry's only hope. "Severus," Sirius said, his worry masking the hatred that he felt for the man.

"Black, what do you want?" Snape replied, looking down at Sirius with nothing but contempt; the same emotions would be written on Sirius' face if not for Harry's predicament.

"I…I need you to make the Condicto Cocktail, please." Sirius said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Why should I?" Snape scowled, rising to his feet and walking closer to the fire.

"Please, Severus, it's not for me…it's for Harry. He'll die if you don't." Sirius replied, worrying that he, with his actions to Snape in the past, would indirectly and unknowingly kill Harry. If that had happened and Harry had actually died, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"Potter needs it?" Snape questioned, his eyes wide with what seemed to be panic. _Lily_, he thought to himself, remembering the promise that he had made to her and Dumbledore all those years ago. "Fine," He growled, taking hold of his emotions and not letting Sirius see them. "It'll be an hour or two before it's finished, so make sure you have someone who's competent stop whatever curse he's been infected with from expanding or infecting him any further." He smirked as Sirius' eyes narrowed at the insult that he threw at him and then turned back to his desk.

Making sure to bite back his pride, Sirius said, "Thank you." He disappeared from the flames a second later, allowing Snape his privacy. The wizard looked around his office, trying to gather everything that he would need for that difficult potion. The Condicto Cocktail was a potion that could settle a bodily curse to the point where it was stagnate, and, if the wizard was strong enough, erase the curse all together. Not many could make it, and not many would even think about giving it to a patient, for it wasn't only difficult to make—and the ingredients were hard to get—but it could very well kill the person who took it if they were too weak. Potter, he knew, was anything but weak, having been blessed with magical reserves more than most could comprehend. After he checked over everything, he left his office in a hurry and headed over to his private store-cupboard that was down the hall from his chambers, hoping that he had the full list of ingredients.

"Is whatever you're doing working, Hermione?" Bill questioned, whispering into the witch's ear. Harry had been moved into Regulus' old bedroom, and was now occupying the freshly made bed; Tonks sat in a chair by his side, gently stroking the top of his left hand. George, Sirius, Andromeda, and Ted stood off to the side, looking at Harry with worried eyes.

"Honestly?" Hermione replied, lowly, hoping that Tonks wouldn't overhear her. "That was a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it might be all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in that one spot for the time being, but…" She frowned, allowing Bill to finish off her sentence however he wanted to. She had never even heard of this 'Condicto Cocktail,' and as such, she had no idea what it could or would do to help him.

"We told him breaking into Gringotts was impossible." George muttered darkly, hating how, with all his cleverness and wit, he was as helpless as a school child. "He must have failed."

"Harry doesn't fail." Sirius snapped, striding over to the table that they had laid Harry's possessions on: there was a small bag, his wand, his invisibility cloak, and his broom. He grabbed the bag, opened it up, and looked into its depths. Reaching in, his hand wrapped around a metal object, and he immediately pulled it out, allowing it's golden glint to light the room. "What the…" Sirius whispered, studying the object for a brief moment, before he noticed the badger that was engraved into the gold. "He did it! This is what he was going in for: Hufflepuff's Goblet." He exclaimed, a large smile coming onto his face, happy that Harry's suffering wasn't in vain.

"How do you know?" Hermione questioned, looking at Sirius with a frown. Did Harry tell Sirius what it was that he has been doing these last few weeks? Did he trust him more than he trusted her?

Sirius glanced at her nervously, and then shrugged, coming up with a story quickly. "I talked to him last night, asked him just what it was that he was going for. And he said that he was specifically going for Hufflepuff's goblet." Hermione looked at him, not really believing what he said, but didn't say anything more. There was a loud noise that came from the floor below, as if someone was yelling out something. Cocking an eyebrow, Sirius threw open the door and tried to listen in.

"Someone tried to rob Gringotts!" A voice screamed, Sirius recognizing it as Neville Longbottom's. He left the room to investigate what the wizard knew, with George, Bill, Hermione following behind him, leaving Andromeda, Ted, and Tonks alone with Harry.

"I'm scared, mom." Tonks cried, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief that Ted had given to her. They were puffy and red as they stared down at her husband, who by now was sweating profusely and convulsing every so often, clearly fighting for his life. That black mark looked as if it was burning deeper and deeper into his skin, though, due to Hermione's magic, it was staying exactly where it was. "He's always been so powerful, so strong, it's…it's disturbing seeing him like this."

"He is strong, hunny." Andromeda said softly, moving over to sit beside her daughter. She pulled her into a tight hug, pushing a few strands of Tonks' pink hair behind the woman's ear. "He'll get through this; he'll come back to you." Ted nodded from where he was standing, silently agreeing with his wife. If anyone could survive this it would be Harry Potter, the only person in the world who had survived the Killing Curse.

"What's all this racket about?" Sirius grunted, coming into the kitchen where Neville, Despereaux Barnaud and Hestia Jones were sitting. He rarely saw Hestia anymore, besides Order meetings, because Remus was too busy with both Hogwarts and keeping the werewolves from entering Voldemort's services that Hestia never came by during her free time to spend time with Remus. Instead, she spent most of her time with Sirius' lover and her best friend, as well as Order member herself, Emmeline Vance.

"Someone broke into Gringotts just a half an hour ago. I was there," Neville said, his eyes wide with alarm. "The goblins kept us there for all this time, preventing me from coming here straight away. Do you think it was You-Know-Who?" Then, not waiting for an answer, he continued, "They didn't get anything though, the goblins said they tried to break in but was stopped by the curses and wards that are on the vaults."

"Did they say what vault the person tried to break in to?" Bill questioned, wondering if Harry truly succeeded or not. Sirius said he did, but he questioned the validity of it and whether the man was just saying that to raise people's spirits.

"Vault…vault 223, I think." Neville replied, trying to remember what it was the goblins had said. "Yeah, vault 223, that was it."

"223?" Bill said, unable to stop the laughter that was welling up inside him. "223? The git actually wanted the goblins to know he tried to break in. I assume he didn't actually want them to know the real vault that he burgled, so he did something to the wards of vault 223 as he left." Half of the people in the room looked at Bill confusedly, not knowing what it was he was talking about, as they had no idea that it was Harry who had broken into Gringotts. "Clever."

"Hermione!" A voice from the second floor cut through the air. The male voice belonged to Ted Tonks, who stood at the top of the stairs, calling for the muggleborn witch to come back up into the room. "Come quick." Hermione swiftly bolted from the kitchen, heading straight for the stairs, where she saw Ted looking down at her. Everyone else in the room, except for Sirius, had run at Ted's voice, as well, while Sirius ran off the other way towards the fireplace. "He's woken up, he's mumbling something. He called for you." He supplied for her, turning and running into Regulus' old room.

Hermione quickly skidded to the halt upon reaching the room: Neville, Despereaux, George, Bill, and Hestia coming into the room a second later. "What's happened to Harry?" Neville questioned, gasping at the condition his friend was in. Harry was pale and sweaty, and his body was seemingly running a fever. "What happened? Was it Death Eaters? Did they do this to him?"

"It's complicated, Neville." George replied, hoping that he wouldn't have to answer any more questions; after all, coming up with an answer would be much too difficult at a time like this, what with Harry's life on the line. Seeing he wouldn't get answers, Neville's gaze went back to Harry, who had just yelped in pain like a dog would after stepping on its tail.

"Verweilen Subsido counter-jinx." Harry coughed out with his eyes closed and his back arched. Even to a blind dementor, his pain could be visibly seen; it was so intense that, if you concentrated, it was almost palpable. "It's the only way to prevent it from moving any longer. It's overpowering everything else you've tried." Sure enough, the blackened and burned wound, which was once the size of a cantaloupe, was now expanding outwards: slowly, but noticeably. Harry screamed out in excruciating pain again, gripping the wound as it moved towards the left side of his chest, inching closer and closer to his heart. "AHHHH!" He yelled as he twisted and rolled in the bed, all the while being attacked by the powerful magic that had entered his body.

"Oh, Merlin," Tonks cried, spinning her back to her husband, unable to watch him writhe around in pain. She felt an arm wrap around her, and she turned, crying into the person's shoulder, not knowing or caring whom it was. Her father wrapped his arms around her tighter, calming her down with soft strokes to her hair.

Hermione rushed over to Harry, trying to remember the wand movements for the Subsido counter-jinx. Letting out a deep breath, she moved her wand about, and said, "Verwesido." That, however, just seemed to make the pain worse as Harry let out a louder and even more primal scream of agony. Bill, knowing the anti-jinx, moved closer to Harry, seeing if there was anyway he could help or anything that he could do.

Then, as if hearing Harry's screams, Cedric ran into the room, appearing out of nowhere. He pushed Bill and Hermione out of the way, taking out his wand and flicking it towards the wound. "Palus." He recited, kneeling down next to Harry. Holding his wand point to the wound, in the middle of it specifically, he muttered, "Certo Vista." That seemed to do the trick as Harry calmed down a bit, his screaming having stopped for at least the time being. Cedric rose to his feet, and then turned and looked at the occupants of the room, Sirius having arrived when he was tending to Harry. "What in Merlin's name caused him this? Did he tell you what it was? And," He rounded on Sirius, looking at him with an intensely angered gaze. "Why didn't you call me sooner?" Admittedly, he was busy at work, but he would have dropped everything in an instant to help or protect Harry, his best friend.

"It's the Igneus Animus Ardens curse." Snape supplied, strolling into the room with his black robes billowing behind him. He gave Sirius a smug look as he passed him, reveling in the fact that the man was useless in the situation. "It's arcane, goblin created, and extremely powerful."

"What does it do? What's wrong with him?" Ted questioned, not knowing anything about that curse. By the looks of everyone's faces, the only other person besides Snape who knew about it was Sirius, and he himself didn't look too thrilled that that was the curse Harry was fighting.

"It's probably burning his soul." Snape shrugged, as if he didn't care either way, though the way he was looking at Harry betrayed his seeming indifference. "Move away." He ordered, taking out a chalice of golden liquid that somehow hadn't spilt in his pockets. The liquid was so bright that if one would look at it for a few seconds, they'd have golden disks in their vision for a couple of days. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to Harry, he tilted the cocktail into the wizard's mouth and down his throat. "You're usually supposed to do anti-jinxes while feeding someone this, but Granger and Diggory have already done all of the ones that I know of, it seems. If this works, and it most likely will, the black wound should contract within five minutes time and his own magic will do the rest."

"Verwesido," Cedric whispered into Hermione's ear. "You did well with that anti-jinx. I can see you're frazzled, but that probably saved his life; the reason he was screaming like that was because of the direction it was moving towards, not because you did something wrong."

"If I didn't do anything wrong, then how come you had to come and do your magic?" Hermione snapped, clearly taking her failure to heart; her incompetence could cost a good friend his life. She didn't know if she could take another death of a friend in this war, having already lost Roger.

"Precaution." Cedric shrugged, though it was half-heartedly. He didn't know what she was doing before he got there, which prevented him from further soothing her nerves. "I've heard about this curse, Hermione, and he should have been dead already. You saved him, you know that, right?"

"Maybe." Hermione whispered, looking down at the floor. Cedric opened and closed his mouth a few times to say something but couldn't decide on what, so he turned his attention back to Snape instead. Snape was still forcing Harry to drink the cocktail, and after another minute, Harry finished the last of the potion. After that, Snape placed the cup down on the nightstand, rose to his feet, and left the room without saying a word; not needing or wanting a thank you, it seemed.

They all waited with bated breaths for Harry to wake up, and as the clock ticked down, many in the room began to lose hope. Five minutes passed and still nothing had happened, the room was silent other than the soft whimpering of Tonks. Then, as the minutes neared ten, a pulse seemed to emanate from the black wound, and it slowly reeled back, leaving what was once blackened skin bright red. While the black wound retreated, Harry's color began to come back to him and his temperature subdued; he began to stir in his bed, as well. Tonks gave out a relieved sigh, hugging her father, and skipping over to Harry's side, intent on being the first person the wizard would see upon awakening.

She stood in anticipation as she waited to see if he would open his eyes or if he was still in too much pain to. After a few minutes had passed, he awoke with a moan, his eyes bloodshot and tired looking. "Harry!" Tonks jumped towards him and wrapped him up in her arms, relief written all over her heart-shaped face.

"Stop." Sirius suddenly exclaimed, noticing Harry was still a little woozy. "Harry is there anything else we need to do for you? Will you be okay?" He questioned, knowing that Harry might only be conscious and cognizant for a short while.

"Invigorating potion." Harry mumbled, his voice crackling as he spoke. "My body will…need energy…it needs to fight off the curse the rest of the way."

They all looked around at each other, no one moving or doing anything. "Someone go get it, buy it, brew it, do whatever you have to do to get it." Ted Tonks ordered after he saw no one was taking the initiative.

Neville nodded dumbly and rushed out of the room, nearly knocking over Tracey Davis when the woman came to see what the commotion was about. She gasped when she saw the state that Harry was in, her face horrorstruck. "What happened?"

"He got attacked by a few Death Eaters." Sirius said, loudly enough for the whole room to hear. He didn't want to have to answer everyone's question individually, fearing that he would start to contradict himself after awhile; instead he hoped this would placate all of their curiosity. He noticed Regulus had pushed out the troll that was in the picture across from his old bed so he could view Harry's situation for himself. He gave his brother a slight nod when he saw that he had Sirius' attention, telling him everything would be okay in his silent way. Phineas Nigellus came into the picture just then and after whispering a few words with Regulus, he quickly rushed back to his other frame, presumably to tell the portrait of Dumbledore what had happened.

Harry gingerly reached for the wand that was on the nightstand, recognizing it as his own, but stopped when Cedric grabbed his hand. "Whoa, don't move Harry, just tell me what you need." Cedric questioned, preventing Harry from moving by pushing him back down onto the bed. "A spell?"

Harry nodded, and then using his finger to simulate a wand, he made the letter 'S' in the air, showing them what movement they needed to make. "On the wound, say 'Emendo.'"

Tonks was nearest to his wound, so she was the one to say the spell. She put her wand tip up to his abdomen, and while the black wound had disappeared, the section was still red and very hot to the touch. She made the wand movements that Harry demonstrated, and quietly muttered, "Emendo." The spell seemed to work for what it was supposed to do, as Harry laid back with his eyes close, clearly relieved of some of his pain. The wound, however, had little to no improvement from the looks of it, except for perhaps becoming a little cooler than it was, though it was still very much hot.

Despereaux Barnaud inched over to Tracey, giving her a slight elbow to the arm when he was finally next to her. "Hi." He said, flashing her a small smile that seemed out of place given the circumstances.

"Hi, Despereaux." Tracey replied, a mixture of both happiness and worry on her face and in her voice. Her gaze moved over to Despereaux for a second, before returning back to Harry on the bed.

"He'll be okay." Despereaux consoled her, seeing that she was upset.

"I hope so, but it's not that." Tracey said, turning and walking out of the room. She knew Despereaux was behind her, so she continued to say what was on her mind, needing to talk to someone. "I'm fearful to talk about it because I know its so selfish and petty in comparison to what he's going through, but I see him there, halfway to death, and just realize how much I miss having someone. We dated for close to two years in Hogwarts, you know? Heck, if I didn't get dragon pox and break it off with him to prevent him from catching them himself, we might have married one another; though, I doubt it, he never looked at me with the same affection that he looks at Tonks with." She saw Despereaux's crestfallen face, she quickly explained herself. "No, no, its not like that, I'm not jealous of Tonks or anything, I don't love Harry like that anymore. I'm just lonely, that's all, to be quite honest. Other than my best friend Daphne, I don't really have anyone. My brother is a traitor who tried to kill Harry, my parents agree with Voldemort's principles of blood supremacy for the most part, and no other member of my family is alive."

"Well," Despereaux started slowly, making sure he chose his words wisely. Having a father who was a Death Eater, he could really relate to her troubles and he figured that's what was drawing him to her; besides the fact that he was attracted to her, of course. He ran his eyes over her face, and noticed that she didn't have the signs of a previous dragon pox infection, such as pockmarks or a green tinge to the skin color; it seemed as if she was normal, which made him question the validity of her statement, but he did not voice that question. "If you ever need to talk or something, you can always come to me. I know we really don't know each other that well yet, but…" He drifted off, allowing her to finish it off how she wanted to.

"I'll take you up on that sometime." Tracey smiled, giving him a hug. "I have to go see Daphne, can you please let me know if something happens to Harry?"

"Sure, but he'll be fine." Despereaux replied, waving to her. She returned the wave and walked down the stairs, exiting the house into the streets of London a few seconds later. Despereaux returned to the room Harry was in, wondering where his good friend Neville was with that invigorating potion that Ted had sent him to get.

A half an hour later, Harry had just taken a small vial of invigorating potion that Neville had purchased from the apothecary in Diagon Alley. The effects were immediate as it made Harry a lot more awake, his eyes losing their redness as well. "I wonder what happened to that Condicto Cocktail that was in my work room, I know I had one more left up there. Are you sure you looked in the right room, Sirius?" Harry questioned, rubbing his wound as he played around it with his wand. Sirius had relayed everything that had transpired since he passed out on the first floor, and now Harry was trying to figure out just where that cocktail potion went.

"We'll talk about it later, but I'm pretty sure, yeah." Sirius answered, not really worrying about it. "Just do what you have to do to get better, we all know the invigorating potion hasn't healed you, it's just made you stronger."

"There's really nothing I can do, though." Harry sighed. "The Condicto Cocktail makes it so if you're magic is strong enough to heal you from the curse you were infected with, you will survive. If its not, you'll die, it's really as simple as that. All I can do is just help heal the physical wound that the curse inflicted, that's about it. We should know by tomorrow if my magic is strong enough or not."

"Well, if that's the case," Tonks said, grabbing Harry's wand from his hand. "You shouldn't be playing with this."

Harry pouted for a second, before giving a huff and laying down in his bed. "I guess you're right." His eyes flicked over to Hermione, who was aimlessly staring out of the window and looking up at the gray sky above. "Thank you, Hermione, you really came through for me today. While I wasn't conscious most of the time, I could feel the magic that you were using and it was good."

"All I did was make you hurt even more, don't thank me." Hermione replied, turning around and walking over to him.

"That's the point of the spell, Hermione." Harry told her, sitting back up in the bed. "It stops the curse from moving, and turns it against itself; it fights itself rather than the person's body. Pain is the key, because without it, it means the anti-jinx wasn't performed properly."

"I'm just glad that you're all right, Harry." Hermione murmured through her tears, changing the subject. "I'm going to go spell Viktor, I'm sure he'll want to come and make sure you're okay."

"Thank you, Hermione." Harry said again, grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I mean it."

She gave him a smile, and bent down and kissed his forehead. "Feel better."

"I will." He replied, watching as she walked out of the room. Harry yawned and moved further down into the bed, getting more comfortable.

"Come on, everybody out." Tonks ordered, ushering all the occupants of the room to the door. "Harry needs his sleep if he wants to get better." They all agreed, and after giving him their wishes for him to improve, they all departed, leaving Harry and Tonks alone in the room. When Tonks turned back around to face Harry after closing the door, she couldn't help but smile as she saw Harry already fast asleep. She made a move to the chair that was next to the bed, but before she was even able to take a step, there was a soft knock on the door, forcing her to turn back around to open it.

"Severus told me about Harry." Remus Lupin said quietly; his face was scratched and he looked older than the last time Tonks had seen him just a few days before. "Is he all right?"

"He's okay," Tonks said, opening the door a little wider so Remus could see Harry's sleeping form. "He's sleeping now, though."

"Oh," Remus murmured in a tone mixed with disappointment and understanding. "I'll come back later then."

"Harry would like that." Tonks replied, then, adding, "Are you okay, Remus?"

"I was at a werewolf camp and had a run-in with my good friend Greyback," Remus growled with hate-filled eyes. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

"Good, I just wanted to make sure." Tonks smiled. "I'll see you later."

"See you." Remus said, before turning and heading down the stairway into the main hallway of the house. Tonks took a seat next to the bed, her gaze firmly fixed on Harry's breathing chest; it rose and fell steadily, a fact telling her that he was okay, that he was alive and safe. Truth be told, she was scared witless when she saw him before, so weak and in so much pain. She understood that he was still in pain, but this was different: this pain wasn't pushing him towards the threshold of death. She didn't know how long she watched him sleep, but she fell asleep herself soon after that, exhausted by the stress that the day brought on her.

Five hours later, Harry had just woken up from his nap when there was a knock on the door. Tonks jumped up from her chair, thinking it was Remus, and opened the door with a grin. She was surprised that Sirius was standing on the other side of the door, instead of the werewolf that she expected. "Is he awake?" He questioned her, hoping that his godson would be able to talk.

"Sure is." Tonks replied, shuffling to the side and allowing Sirius into the room.

"Hey there, tiger." Sirius said, walking over to the foot of Harry's bed. Tonks walked around to the other side of the bed, leaving the door open for visitors to come in and check on Harry if they wanted to.

"Padfoot," Harry smiled, glad to have someone else to talk to; he hated looking at Tonks, knowing that he had put her through so much emotional pain before. "I do have a nickname like yours, you know. Its Snowpaw."

"Snowpaw?" Sirius cocked an amused eyebrow. "Snowpaw? That's clever."

"Thank you," Harry puffed his chest out in pride. "It was either that or Whitefang."

"Isn't that a muggle book?" Sirius asked, recognizing that name from somewhere.

"Yes, but I didn't know you could read." Harry laughed.

"I'm guessing you're okay since your sense of humor has clearly returned." Sirius questioned, suddenly turning serious. He was really scared for Harry's life before, and didn't like to see him hurt or in pain like he was in. "You had us worried there for a bit."

"Yeah, I should have been more prepared and had made sure there was a Condicto Cocktail where I told you it would be. Its my fault, really." Harry answered, his gaze moving to Tonks.

"Nonsense." Sirius replied, shaking his head. He paused for a second, and looked out the window, the lights from the city enthralling him with their beauty. "I guess I should read up on my anti-curses and anti-jinxes." Sirius laughed, though there was no joy in his tone. "I was at a loss of what to do for you, if it weren't for Cedric and Hermione, I'm afraid…well, you know."

"Sirius, you're the smartest and one of the most powerful wizards I know, you knew what to do, you were just worried, that's all. And, was it not you who got in touch with Cedric?" Harry replied, knowing what he was saying was the truth. "Plus, I think being in Azkaban for twenty years has really stunted your knowledge about magic because the spells that Cedric and Hermione were performing are rather new, some of them having been invented just over three years ago."

"When I was in Azkaban." Sirius nodded, understanding. He went into the corner where an old blanket was thrown about, and he looked over to Harry. "Do you mind if I stay here?"

"Not at all." Harry said, grinning widely. It had been awhile since he had seen Sirius in his dog form, and truth be told, he missed just running around as an animal with him like they used to do before Voldemort returned.

"Goodbye Tonks," Sirius waved to the confused witch, who watched as Sirius transformed into a large black dog and plopped down onto the blanket.

"He's a dog!" Tonks exclaimed in excitement. "I was wondering what he was when I saw him transform when you both were fighting off those wolves, but since we were running as fast as we could, I couldn't really get a good look. I thought it was a bear because it was big and black, but the rest of them never knew you had transformed, they thought you were just fighting them with your wands."

"I can tell." Harry agreed, remembering that night with sadness: it was the night Dumbledore died. "After all, no one has come talked to me about being an animagus since that night."

"Don't worry," Tonks kissed the top of his head. "Everyone was too scared to look back and notice that you were a tiger. The cutest little tiger this world has ever seen, I might add." She finished with a wink, making Harry smile.

"Knock, knock." Hermione's voice came from the door; Viktor was standing behind her, peeking his head over her shoulder to look at Harry. "I have a visitor who's been wanting to see you."

"Viktor!" Harry exclaimed, motioning for them to come in.

"Hello Harry." Viktor replied in his Bulgarian accent. "Are you okay? Hermione said you were hurt, but she didn't tell me to vot extent."

"Well, that was probably for the best, you'd be worried if you actually knew." Harry answered, knowing how Viktor got. He studied Viktor a little closer, and for the first time, noticed his eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept in days. "Everything all right with you?"

The Bulgarian looked over to Hermione, who bit her lip in response. "Vot's with the dog?" Viktor inquired quickly, changing the subject as he looked over at Sirius with a questioning eyebrow.

"I borrowed him from a muggle friend of mine with the hopes that it helps Harry heal quicker." Tonks replied as she gave them an awkward smile, hoping that would suffice as an answer.

"What's wrong, Viktor?" Harry prodded, seeing the tension that had filled the room all of the sudden. "You're my best friend, you can tell me anything."

"Hope we're not interrupting." Cedric's voice came from the doorway before Viktor could answer. They all turned their attention to him, and waved both him and Gaetana, who was behind him, into the room. Both of them walked in after closing the door and immediately noticed the discomfort in the room, as if someone was about to reveal something but was stopped for some reason. "Did I say something?" Cedric questioned, his gaze moving around before stopping on Viktor, who was staring at the floor.

"It's been two weeks since Roger died." Viktor mumbled, though the entire room heard him clear as day. "I still feel that grief everyday; you don't haff to valk into the places you used to vork with him every single morning. You're not reminded of him every single time you go to vork like I am. I cannot do it, its too hard, too much. We had so much vork that we were doing together and now that burden is completely on me."

"You don't think we realize that it's been two weeks?" Harry snapped, but his tone wasn't angry. "Why do you think I risked my life and bloody broke into Gringotts so quickly? I want this damn war, this awful fight against Voldemort over and done with already. He's taken my parents, my grandfather, my unborn child, and my best friend, trust me, I feel grief everyday as well."

"I didn't mean to imply…I'm sorry." Viktor mumbled, tears welling up in his eyes. "Things are just changing so quickly." He looked over to Cedric, who was staring at the wall, shut off from the emotions that were inside of him.

"If you need help with the stores," Harry began, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. The feeling of malaise that was inside of him the past two weeks came flooding out, gripping his heart and mind with its frozen clutches. "I can help you or I'm sure Sirius would be more than happy to." He looked over to the black dog in the corner and gave a small smile when he saw it nodding and wagging its tail.

"No, this is my contribution to the fight. I haven't done much compared to all of you, I know, but this was Roger's and my way of helping out, by doing everything you would normally do if You Know Who vas not around." Viktor replied, adamant about keeping his responsibilities. "The Quidditch Store, the Owl Emporium, the apartment building, I take care of them all, and I'm glad to do it, I just miss him, that's all."

"All three of us do." Cedric whispered, breaking his silence that had started when Viktor had mentioned Roger's name. His anger had dissipated over the last two weeks, and now he was stricken with depression, tormented by his fond memories of Roger.

"Tell them." Hermione whispered in Viktor's ear, catching the attention of Tonks, who was standing right next to her.

"Tell us what?" She questioned, looking from Hermione to Viktor.

"Lisa came to us last night," Viktor said in a low tone. "She's pregnant."

Everyone's eyes went wide at the pronouncement, surprised and saddened by it. "Oh, no." Gaetana gasped, bringing her hand up to her mouth. While it was true that she didn't know Roger like the rest of them, she was still friends with him and felt awful for his daughter when he died, and now hearing that his wife was pregnant with another child, she felt even worse.

"When…when did she find out?" Tonks asked, her brown eyes floating over to Harry, who was silent on the matter, clearly startled and possibly hurt that neither he nor Cedric knew about it.

"I guess either yesterday or the day before." Hermione answered, rubbing Viktor's back in a circular motion.

"Is she scared?" Gaetana inquired, knowing that she would be scared if she were in a similar situation.

"She just misses him so much." Hermione replied, looking over to the witch. "Her parents moved in with her to help take care of Harmony and to make sure she doesn't seclude herself from the world. She's really depressed."

"She hates me." Harry said, quietly. "She blames me for getting him killed."

"When did she tell you this?" Cedric inquired, confused by why Lisa would have such thoughts. Harry would never, ever do anything that would risk Roger's safety; he cared about the man too much to do such a thing.

"After the funeral, when we were at the gathering." Harry replied with a shrug.

"When you vent over to talk to her?" Viktor questioned, and after seeing Harry nod his head, he added, "You are not to blame for Roger's death, Harry. She is just depressed, that's all."

"He should still be here." Cedric murmured with his eyes closed, his mind drifting off to an idea that he had. He gave out a long sigh, and then reached down and took Gaetana's hand in his. "Everything's changing so quickly. We have all lost something in this war, but I don't want to lose anymore of you." He looked over to Gaetana, giving her a smile, his confidence rising with every word that he said. "I think we should get married after all of this is over."

Tonks and Hermione both gasped at what he said, while Viktor and Harry both jolted their heads up from the floor to look at Cedric. "Are you serious?"

Cedric nodded, giving the silver-haired witch a small smirk. "I know we've just started together, but my best friends are here, your best friend is here, I felt that they should know my intentions."

Gaetana looked up into Cedric's eyes, searching for something it seemed like. She then ran her gaze over to Tonks, her best friend, who was smiling in anticipation and got the information that she needed. "You're on, Mr. Diggory." She said in her half-Italian, half-English accent.

The reaction in the room was immediate. The sadness that was almost palpable before was now gone, and in its place was hope, the hope that this war would be over soon and everyone could get back to their lives and finally be happy again. The girls went over to Gaetana and engulfed her in their arms, hugging her and offering her their congratulations. The guys, meanwhile, gathered around Harry as he was still in the bed, and hugged each other like brothers, internally thanking Cedric for giving them some happiness while their thoughts were on Roger, Lisa and their unborn child. Sirius barked from the corner, his tail wagging harder than ever before.

"When I'm better, we'll discuss how we can help Lisa." Harry whispered, and both Cedric and Viktor nodded in agreement. The group left to get a celebration dinner soon after that, leaving Harry and Tonks alone in the room with Sirius still in his dog form.

There was a soft tap at the window, and Harry turned his attention towards it, giving a small smile when he saw it was an osprey. Tonks went over and opened it, allowing the bird entrance into the room; the bird hopped into the room, and flew over to the bedpost and landed on it, using it as a perch. "Nymphie, do you think you can go get me a butterbeer, perhaps? Oh, and a piece of parchment and a quill, I have to write something to Kylie."

"Sure, Harry." Tonks grinned, a knowing look on her face. She quietly left the room and closed the door behind her, allowing Harry some privacy. Immediately, the osprey jumped off the perch and transformed into Kylie with a pop.

"I heard you were hurt." Kylie said, straightening out his clothes with his hands. He was wearing normal muggle clothes, jeans and a sweater, lacking the hood that he normally wore. "Though, I don't necessarily believe the story that Tracey told us. Attacked by Death Eaters? Who could possibly get the drop on you?" Sirius, from his spot in the corner, gave a bark, and Harry flinched in response.

"I forgot about him." Harry murmured, knowing that Sirius barked to remind Harry that he was still there.

"When did you get a dog?" Kylie cocked an eyebrow, having a suspicion that it was an animagus, though he did not voice it. He had always thought that Harry had wanted to become an animagus because someone he knew was one, but could never identify which person it was; he had thought it was Remus, but after finding out he was a werewolf, he eliminated him from contention.

"Never you mind." Harry waved it off. "I actually got cursed by Gringotts."

"Ha," Kylie grunted, a smile coming onto his face. "You were the one who broke in? I hope you got what you needed. Its all over the papers, the Prophet even released a new edition to cover it."

"I did, but my only question is does Voldemort know yet?" Harry asked, his voice and demeanor serious. If Voldemort did know, then his subterfuge and cover would be blown, and the Dark Lord would know that Harry had somehow gotten information about his Horcruxes. If that happened, it would only be a matter of time before Voldemort went searching for his Horcruxes and find out that almost all of them, barring Nagini, had been taken already.

"He's not in the country." Kylie replied, furrowing his brows. "He's off in Romania or something, searching for some wand maker."

Harry snorted at that, shaking his head slightly. "He's still looking for the Elder Wand?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Kylie shrugged, not being privy to that kind of information. "All I know is that Quirrell and Crouch are in charge for the time being." He ran his gaze over Harry's body, seeing if he could spot what was wrong. "You sure you're okay, right? Do you need me to do anything for you?"

Harry rolled his eyes, flattered that so many people were concerned about him. "I'm fine, stop worrying."

"Your wife is returning back upstairs, Harry." Regulus announced, coming back into the troll's picture for a moment. He gave Kylie a bow and smiled at his brother in dog form before leaving, allowing the troll to take his place once again.

"That's my cue." Kylie grinned, walking over to the window and opening it enough for him to fly out. "If you can, check your journal, I'll write any information that I get in it."

"Will do." Harry nodded. "See you."

"Bye." Kylie replied, and with a pop, turned into an osprey and flew out of the window.

"Not a word, Sirius." Harry said, sternly. The dark barked in response and laid back down onto the blanket.

Later that night, the Death Eaters were called into a meeting. Quirinus Quirrell and Barty Crouch, Jr, stood in the center of a large Death Eater circle, silently walking around them. Their wands were mockingly held in their hands as they stared at their comrades, matching smirks on their Azkaban-marked faces. "There is a rumor that one of our own attacked Harry Potter with a powerful curse sometime yesterday or today." Crouch began, his tone neutral. "Is there any truth to this?"

"Potter? Who did it! Who? HE IS MINE!" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed out madly, remembering the humiliation that the wizard had put her through by hitting her with that jinx. She had lost the ability to see color in her right eye, a lasting effect that magic could not repair.

"Don't kid yourself, Bella, Potter is our master's to kill, not yours. Plus," Quirrell grinned, looking at the black haired witch. "You are no longer of any importance to us and haven't been since Potter beat you, so why don't you run along now and let the grown-ups talk."

"You better watch your tongue, you filthy mudblood lover." Bellatrix sneered back, gripping her wand from under her cloak. She reached up and took off her bone mask, allowing everyone to see her face: she still was a good-looking woman, but a part of her face was marked in a light shade of pink, where the jinx that Harry had thrown at her had made contact.

"Mudblood lover?" Death Eaters questioned, as a murmur gripped the circle.

"Let me guess, you're referencing the fact that I taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts before moving over to Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Quirrell laughed. "Do you even know what I taught those students? I taught them what makes muggles so inferior to our kind. I groomed future Death Eaters, didn't I, Flint? Montague, I taught you as well, didn't I?"

"Yes sir." A Death Eater, who had one of the newer masks that were made out of silver, said, taking a step into the circle. "You made sure we understood that they were inferior to us in everyway, without arising the attention of Dumbledore. Really, it was a splendid job on your end."

"How many of you know that Quirrell and I are good friends?" Barty Crouch said, interrupting the argument that was taking place. A few people raised their hands, Severus Snape included. "I'm not surprised more of you don't know about it. We were in Ravenclaw together during Hogwarts; we were in the same year and in all of the same classes. We tortured mudbloods in the hallways, and we were good at hiding our tracks. When we left school, Quirinus wanted to travel the world but I said no, instead I devoted my services to our master. When I heard that he was in Azkaban, having joined the Dark Lord's forces, I was proud of my friend, so very proud. What I'm trying to say, and let me make this clear, Quirrell does not love mudbloods, Bellatrix is just misinformed."

"Misinformed?" Bellatrix snapped, unbridled rage rising in her stomach. "Was it not you who denied our master when we were being tried for torturing Longbottom and his miserable wife? Was it not you who begged for mercy from your blood traitor of a father? Was that not you?" She laughed as the memory of Crouch fearfully pleading like a sniveling coward for his father to have mercy on him popped into her head.

"I did those things because I am not a lunatic like you are, Bellatrix." Crouch retorted. "I saw an opportunity to get out of my punishment and go after our lord instead of wasting away in Azkaban. It might have worked, too, if you just learned to shut your mouth."

Bellatrix growled and moved to strike Crouch, but was stopped when her husband, Rodolphus, grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the circle. "You will get your chance," he whispered. "But now is not the time."

"Back to the point, who was it that attacked Potter?" Quirrell again questioned, looking around at every Death Eater.

Kylie leaned over to Snape, who was standing to his left, and in a low enough voice that no one else could hear him, he said, "One of us is going to have to take the blame."

Snape agreed, and took a step forward. "It was I, though I wasn't actually attacking him. I appeared in Knockturn Alley and an Auror threw a curse at me; Potter, who was there on his own business, just got in the way, or else I would have hurt him even worse."

"Very well." Crouch nodded. "Do we know anything about the Gringotts incident that happened a day ago?"

"It was a bewitched Auror." Snape said, again, tying both incidents into one. "He's the one that threw a curse at me; later on, I caught him snooping around, asking questions about our master, so Rosier and I put him under the Imperious Curse and told him to get himself killed by the goblins."

"Is this true, Rosier?" Quirrell barked at the older man, who looked at Snape and Kylie, and then gave a hesitant nod. "Why didn't you just kill him?"

"We wanted to torture him, sir, and what better way to do that then to have his own people throw him into Azkaban?" Rosier admitted. Then, gaining more courage, his voice got louder. "After all, how many of our kind have been thrown into those cells? How many of our kind have died fighting the battle that we all know is right and fair?"

"You two sure have been active." Crouch muttered, giving them an investigative glance.

"It was the same Auror that threw a curse at me." Snape replied, knowing that he had to say something. "I would not be active if he hadn't been nosey."

"Right," Quirrell replied. "Our master will be returning in a short time, a day or two from now we believe. In order to better serve him, we would like a progress report on all of your active missions. Macnair, you first, how are you and Greyback doing?"

"We are ready and waiting." A thin, cloaked Death Eater replied. "Greyback, as you know, is at our camp, keeping everything in line. That's why he isn't here tonight."

"So you are prepared to act straight away if need be, then?" Crouch asked, wanting reassurance from him. The Dark Lord ordered him to make sure everyone was prepared to attack at a moment's notice before he left, and Crouch would not fail in that task.

"Yes," Macnair nodded vigorously from under his hood. "I've gathered everything the Dark Lord has asked for, with a few additions by Quirrell's unique ability and of my own choosing."

"I wouldn't call my power to sway trolls unique, Macnair." Quirrell laughed, remembering the time he had used his persuasion over trolls during his days in Hogwarts as a teacher. "After all, anyone with halfway decent intelligence can seduce those boorish brutes."

Crouch rolled his eyes and moved onto the next Death Eater, not wanting to hear Quirrell gloat anymore. "And you, Yaxley, have you accomplished what you were told to do? You've had many months since your last success, Yaxley, or rather should I say since your son has had success. Speaking of which, where is young Carelton these days?"

Yaxley gulped down the ball that was in his throat, his eyes moving over to Rabastan Lestrange's masked face. His thoughts drifted back to the day where Rabastan told him to get his son hidden as soon as possible, advice that he had taken to heart. "He's visiting a friend in France, and as for my assignment, I have gotten a few officials under my spell, however, it will be a few days until I have someone of great importance."

"The Dark Lord will not be pleased." Quirrell scolded, shaking his head in a mocking fashion. "And the search for the coward Malfoys, any word? Crabbe and Goyle, you and your sons were assigned to that, were you not?"

Two large and round Death Eaters took a step forward on one side, while larger and rounder Death Eaters stepped forward on the other side of the circle. "Yes, sir." One of them said, coughing to clear his throat. "We have been unsuccessful thus far."

"Pansy Parkinson!" Crouch screamed out, turning around and staring at a small Death Eater with a feminine figure and a silver mask upon her face. "Draco was your boyfriend, was he not?"

"He was." Pansy answered quietly, disgraced by Draco's actions. She was willing to run with him, but he left her alone and now she was reaping the repercussions of that action. "I have no idea where he is, if that's what you are implying."

"No idea whatsoever?" Crouch cocked a threatening eyebrow.

"As I don't associate with traitors, again I tell you that I have no idea." She frowned underneath her mask. She was an average looking woman, neither beautiful nor ugly, but was quite cute when she smiled, something she rarely ever did anymore. While students in Hogwarts had made fun of her or mentioned her pug-like scrunched face in retaliation to whatever she had done to offend them, her facial features had changed by the time of her seventh year, taking away that insult from everyone who wanted revenge on her tormenting. Looking around the Death Eater circle, it was just then that she realized she was alone on her island, no one to turn to or go to, and that terrified her to no end. "I don't associate with traitors." She said again, this time more to herself than to anyone else.

Quirrell looked over to a group of Death Eaters, trying to remember whom it was that he had taught. "What about all of you who went to school with Draco? Warrington, Cornfoot, Flint, Montague, do you know where he is?"

"We were never his friends." They all replied in some form or another.

Crouch sighed, and after a moment's silence, he looked over to the Lestrange trio. "Bellatrix, they're your family, perhaps you're hiding them from us?"

Bellatrix's violet eyes flew open at that allegation; they were wide with rage. "Never! I will prune my family tree if need be in order to secure our loyalty and purity."

Crouch gave Quirrell a smile, both of them loving their power and their ability to get the other Death Eaters riled up. "My Azkaban comrades, you're still loyal, are you not?" Quirrell questioned, giving them all a pointed look.

"Aye!" The group yelled, clearly excited at the prospect of the death and violence that Crouch and Quirrell promised.

"Good," Quirrell nodded. "Do what you're assigned to do and meet here promptly tomorrow when we call." And with that, the meeting was over, and many of the Death Eaters disapparated, while a few stayed around to chat with their friends or acquaintances.

Three such people were Kylie, Snape, and Rosier, who were all walking over to one another, making sure to stay far enough away from the rest to make sure they were not overheard. "You could have told me what you were doing before you threw me into the wolf den like that." Rosier said when they got to a spot that was far enough away.

Kylie, from underneath his Death Eater garment, pointed over to Snape. "It was his idea, he said he wanted to test your worth."

"What if I screwed up?" Rosier questioned, internally wondering if they had intended him to fail or not.

"It would have been your problem, not mine." Snape drawled apathetically, truly not caring about what would have happened to the old man. He looked at Rosier's eyes from underneath his hood, trying to infiltrate his mind with Legilimency. While he was unimpressed with the older man's mental defenses, he knew that they would suffice since Voldemort would not question his loyalty as much as he would newer Death Eaters; after all, Rosier had been apart of Tom Riddle's gang way back in Hogwarts, one of the only people who knew the Dark Lord before he was infamously known as Voldemort. "You're doing this for Evan?"

"Why else would I risk my life?" Rosier snapped at the mention of his dead son. "He was everything to me and he died needlessly in a stupid war for a stupid cause."

"I liked Evan, he was my friend in Hogwarts." Snape mentioned, remembering how he and Evan would discuss dark magic during their years at Hogwarts; he was an above average wizard and had some potential that was unable to be tapped due to his death.

"Yes, I remember, though I don't believe either of you considered your relationship as a friendship." Rosier replied, smiling at the happy thoughts of his son.

"Snape doesn't have friends." Kylie murmured, before getting thrown a scowl by Snape, who then turned and walked out of the room. Kylie looked over to Rosier before shrugging and apparating away, leaving Rosier alone with the rest of the Death Eaters.

At twilight the next night, the Death Eaters attacked the quidditch match between the Holyhead Harpies and the Appleby Arrows that was being played. While the stadium was not filled to capacity—it never was anymore with the Dark Lord around—there were enough attendees to cause a stir, and the Death Eaters exploited it. They alit the wooden stands up in orange flames, while they attacked the panicking pedestrians with jinxes and curses. The three poles that stood on one side of the quidditch pitch were destroyed with a few well-placed spells, completely shattering before they even hit the ground. Just as the fire consumed the entire stadium, Aurors and Hit Wizards arrived, followed closely by the Order of the Phoenix.

Cedric was leading the Order into battle in Harry's stead since he was still cooped up in bed. The Death Eaters were outnumbered for the most part, but unlike other raids where they would retreat, they decided to stand their ground and fight. Cedric was dueling Quirrell individually, while Hermione and Viktor dueled Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, creating a weird double date. After nearly fifteen minutes, the battle was not going the Death Eater's way, as many of their numbers began to fall be it by injury or being stunned. That changed, however, with the arrival of the Dark Lord, who immediately gave them the upper hand.

"He's here, Neville." Despereaux fearfully grunted, watching as a figure walked towards them, not a hundred feet away. He sent a few Aurors that were in his way flying into the air with nothing but a flick of his wand. "He'll mow everyone over, we can't stop him. We'll be dead before we even brace ourselves to fight. Even Harry can barely take him."

"And Harry was trained and tutored by Dumbledore personally, specifically to fight him." Neville mumbled, fear rising in his stomach. He had only seen Voldemort duel once against Harry, and even then, Harry was clearly fighting a defensive battle, somewhat overmatched. _If Harry is overmatched_, Neville gulped, _then how can I possible be able to last a minute against the Dark Lord?_ Out of nowhere and with barely an audible pop, an aged figure apparated in front of the two. His gray cloak was flailing in the wind and he held his wand in his left hand.

"Leave him to me." The man said, hoarsely. Without another word, he headed straight for Voldemort, his stride easy and his wand by his side, seemingly confident that he would not only survive but also thrive in the encounter. Nearing Voldemort's oncoming form, he stopped and stood there, readying himself for battle. Voldemort continued his march, reaching the aged wizard after a minute or two, pausing just twenty feet away from him.

"You want to fight, old man?" Voldemort mocked, flipping his wand in his hand like a person would a baton. The man was thin, and looked almost decrepit, though he did have a wild look about him that made him seem quite dangerous. His brown eyes gleamed in some emotion, though Voldemort couldn't distinguish what it was exactly.

"Old man?" The aged man said, affronted: he didn't think he was that old. "You have no idea who I am, do you?" He raised his wand to his chest, wanting to be prepared for any attack that came. After all, he was over a hundred, and his reflexes weren't what they used to be.

"I neither know nor care." Voldemort sneered, wondering why this wizard, a wizard who looked barely better than a muggle, could possibly have so much confidence. He flicked his wand, sending a sickly green beam at him: the spell known as the Killing Curse.

Expertly, the aged wizard both dodged the curse and summoned up fiery cords that raced towards Voldemort in one swift motion. Voldemort conjured a shield, and the cords clanged off of the metal loudly, dropping to the ground where they disappeared in a puff of smoke. Before Voldemort knew it, however, the old man had sent another attack, this time a beast made completely of flame that rushed towards the Dark Lord, its mouth wide open and ready to consume him. Voldemort swished his wand high into the air, and there was a loud gunshot-like noise, and the fire-beast was transfigured into glass, which was then blasted apart, sending shrapnel each everyway.

The glass flew towards the aged wizard, and he swiftly twirled his wand, transfiguring the glass that neared him into sand, which crumpled to the ground, being blown away by the wind. The aged wizard sent a Killing Curse, having no qualms about the Dark Arts, at Voldemort, who apparated away with a swirl of his cloak, allowing the curse to hit the ground, harmlessly. The aged wizard studied the area with his brown eyes, scanning it, waiting for the Dark Lord to reappear. Sure enough, with a burst of red light, Voldemort apparated in, immediately sending a curse at the duelist. The aged wizard flicked his wand and a brown orb-like sphere of energy came flying out, colliding into the red curse of Voldemort; they bounced away from each other, with one smashing a nearby boulder to pieces.

They both circled around, their wands held firmly in their hands and their eyes staring at each other. Then, running up towards them, Cedric, Hermione and Sirius came and surrounded the Dark Lord. Voldemort, seeing that the number of Death Eaters had fallen, ordered them all to leave, allowing them to disapparate away and leave their master alone. He flashed the aged wizard a scowl, and before the Order could descend upon him with their magic, he apparated away, retreating to fight another day.

The Order members gathered around the old man, giving him a curious gaze, not recognizing who he was. Without saying a word, the old man left, disapparating with barely a pop. Hermione furrowed her brows, trying to remember where she had seen him; she remembered something, something to do with Harry, but didn't know what it was exactly. Cedric, too, was deep in thought, knowing that he had seen that man before. _Aberforth Dumbledore_, he questioned to himself, wondering if it was Dumbledore's brother. He shook his head and apparated away, wanting to get back to Headquarters to tell Harry what had happened.

AN: The etymology of the spells of my own creations-

**Verweilen Subsido counter-jinx: **Verweilen, which is German for "stay," and Subsido, which is Latin for "remain or subside." What it does is it basically forces a jinx or curse that has infect somebody to stop working for a short period of time.

**Palus: **Palus, which is "stay" in Latin, and basically stops any magicks within someone's body, it's used specifically in conjunction with the Condicto Cocktail.

**Igneus Animus Ardens curse: **Igneus, which is Latin for "fiery," Animus, which is Latin for "courage," and Ardens, which is Latin for "burning." Its goblin created and incredibly powerful; it attacks somebody's magic, turning it against that person. The more the person fights the curse, the hotter the person gets, basically burning them from the inside out.

**Certo Vista: **Certo, which is Italian for "safe or sure," and Vista, which is English for "prospect." It is used AFTER spells have already been used and searches for the best spell that has been used on the person, eliminates all the rest, and enhances the best one. It's kind of like a computer anti-virus that shuts down everything in your computer, preventing you from basically doing anything.

AN: Here is a list of Death Eaters and Order members again, in case you were interested or have forgotten. The Death Eaters are listed in terms of rank, with the highest at the beginning and the lowest at the end. Remember, these are the Death Eaters with the Dark Mark, as there are others who do not have the mark but still fight for the side of Voldemort. The Order members are in no specific order.

Death Eaters: Crouch, Quirrell, Pettigrew, Bellatrix, Travers, Dolohov, Rodolphus, Macnair, Gibbon, Avery (the father), Snape, Rabastan, Mulciber, Jugson, the Carrows (2), the Crabbes (2), the Goyles (2), Stephen Cornfoot, Rosier, Kylie, the Notts, Greyback, Yaxley, Avery (the son), Marcus Flint, Graham Montague, Pansy Parkinson, and Cade Warrington.

Dead: Rookwood, and Zacharias Smith.

Captured: Thorfinn Rowle, Selwyn, and Scabior.

Defected: Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa Malfoy.

Spies/disloyal: Kylie, Snape, and Rosier.

The Order: Harry, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Cedric, Hermione, Viktor, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, Kingsley, Severus Snape, Hestia Jones, Emmeline Vance, Kylie, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Terry Boot, Gaetana Robards, Wayne Hopkins, Lilyre Moon, Aberforth Dumbledore, Despereaux Barnaud, and Neville Longbottom.

Dead: Dumbledore, and Roger.

Inactive: Hagrid, and McGonagall.

Disloyal member: Tynan Davis.


	35. Gloom

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Sorry for the long wait, I apologize! I promise the next chapter after this one will be up within a week or two. I hope you like it!

S/N 2: I think some of you might be missing the point of this story. There is an underlining idea to this that I have been putting out there since at least chapter 23...Harry isn't the wizard people think he is.

Chapter 35: Gloom…

"There was a man, that same man that you were staring at a few weeks ago," Hermione said slowly, trying to remember every detail of what she had just seen. After arriving at Grimmauld Place after disapparating away from the battlefield, she had immediately rushed up to Harry's bedside to relay him the events that had transpired, knowing that he would want to hear all about it. "He came and fought the Dark Lord…he battled him as well as you would have, maybe even better. He fought like Dumbledore!" She exclaimed in wide eyes.

"He saved our butts." Cedric nodded in agreement, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Without him, I think Voldemort would have taken out a lot of Order members. He saved quite a few of our lives."

"Did he now?" Harry murmured, shaking his head incredulously. He couldn't believe that the man they were talking about would do that; admittedly, he was amazed, and quite honestly, surprised. He would have to pay a visit to the man, find out answers and ask the questions that were on his mind. _That visit will have to come soon_, he thought to himself. After a few more minutes of conversation, Cedric exited the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

"That's not Aberforth Dumbledore, is it Harry? Cedric seems to think it is." Hermione asked, curious if he knew who it was.

"No," Harry shook his head again, giving her a small smile. "It's not Aberforth."

Meanwhile, down on the floor below a similar conversation was taking place. "So who do you think that guy was, Nev?" Despereaux Barnaud questioned as they both took a seat at the kitchen table. Dobby brought them over a cup of tea, which they gladly accepted from the house elf. Lilyre Moon and Wayne Hopkins were already sitting at the table before they had arrived, and they were deeply engrossed in a conversation about some quidditch team, having vaguely noticed that the pair had joined them.

"No idea, but he sure was powerful, though." Neville replied with a shrug. He knew that he had never seen that man before and, unlike the others who were interested in his identity, he was only happy that the man had come to help in the first place.

Despereaux furrowed his eyebrows, thinking about the subject, completely engrossed in finding out the identity of the man. "I heard someone mention, I think it was Emmeline, that she believed it was Dumbledore's brother."

"Do you think it was?" Neville questioned back, taking a sip of his tea.

"I don't know. I've never seen Dumbledore's brother; in fact, I only learned that he had one a few weeks ago." Despreaux answered as his stomach gave a growl in hunger. "You want to go grab a bite to eat at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I can't." Neville shook his head, moving his gaze over to the Frenchman. "Lincola Spinks invited me over for dinner."

"Spinks now? Last time it was Calgary Runcorn, and the time before that it was Sophie Roper." Despereaux sighed, as if he was disappointed in something. "We both know these girls like you, Neville; you can't keep feigning ignorance and just assume they want to be friends like you have been doing."

"They are my friends, though." Neville responded confusedly.

Despereaux put his teacup down, spilling a bit onto the table, but paying no attention to it. "You're going to have to choose sooner or later, Neville. Is it going to be Lincola Spinks, Calgary Runcorn, or Sophie Roper? You can't keep leading them all on; they'll want to settle down sooner or later."

Neville bit his lip, hoping what Despereaux said wasn't true. "They're my friends, Des. I don't want to loose any of them."

"But you will loose them all, Neville, if you don't start to take interest in one of them as more than just a friend." Despereaux rebutted, feeling a bit weird for even having the conversation. He knew that Neville wasn't very popular in Hogwarts, but even so, the wizard had managed to foster friendships with three wonderful witches, ones that could potentially lead to something more and make Neville a very happy man. That's all he wanted for his friend, for him to be happy and to be loved.

"I guess." Neville said, though he didn't necessarily believe it or even understand it.

"Are you two, like, best friends now or something?" Lilyre asked, as Wayne sniggered next to him. Lilyre looked back over to Wayne and a smile appeared on his face, clearly holding back laughter. "Because you fight like an old married couple."

"Shut up." Neville rolled his eyes. "And yes, I believe we are."

An hour later, Harry was sitting up in his bed, reading about the potion that he would need to use in order to destroy the Horcruxes that he had gathered. There was a tap at the window, and he looked over and saw that an osprey was flapping its wings on the windowsill outside. Harry hopped out of bed and meandered over to the window, unlocking the brass hook and opening it wide enough for the bird to enter. The bird flew in without hesitation, and with a pop, transformed into Kylie; the man had a strange look on his face, a mix of fear and resolve. "Five days. Voldemort will be attacking within the week."

"Five days?" Harry said slowly, his eyes wide: he would have to get working real soon, if that were the case. He still had yet to speak with Hagrid about the acromantula venom, but he had expected the half-giant anytime now, so he wasn't too worried about that. Sure enough, there was a knock on the door and Hagrid's muffled voice came from the other side. "We'll talk more tomorrow." Harry whispered, watching as Kylie transformed into an osprey and flew out of the window with a flap of his large wings. "Come in."

"'Ello, 'Arry." Hagrid grinned through his bushy beard as he stepped into the room. His head just hit the ceiling, which forced him to duck into an awkward position.

"Hagrid!" Harry smiled joyfully, motioning for the half-giant to come closer to him. "It's so nice to see you."

"Same to you, same to you." Hagrid replied in a happy tone, truly glad to see Harry. He had always had a soft spot to the boy, seemingly ever since the night that Harry was left in his collapsed house as a baby. "Sorry I couldn't come and see you any sooner, I needed to protect Hogwarts, you know."

"Of course, it's no problem." Harry said, noticing the large bruises that Hagrid had all over his body; they were as big as bludgers. His right eye was covered in a large black and blue swell, as if he was hit with a beater's bat or some other hard object. "What happened, Hagrid?"

"Oh, this? This is just from Grawp." Hagrid laughed, his eyes going wide a second later as it dawned on him that he had never told Harry about his half-brother. "You don't know about Grawp, do you, 'Arry?"

"You've never mentioned him before." Harry shook his head, looking at the half-giant curiously.

"Right," Hagrid nodded, a nervousness overcoming him. "Probably for the best then." He then reached his huge left hand into a fold of his jacket and pulled out a small vial that was filled with a clear liquid, a precious commodity that many in the world desired. "This is the most I could get. Owe him, I will, but I knew you needed it."

"Thank you, Hagrid." Harry smiled, though inwardly sighing at the amount that Hagrid had procured: he didn't think it would be enough. It wasn't the end of the world, however, as he knew he could use his knowledge and create a new potion that would have the same effects of the one he was previously going to brew; he would just need to use the old potion as a starting point. "This is great."

"Right," Hagrid grinned, proud and thrilled that he had made Harry happy. "I best be getting back to Hogwarts. Rest up, 'Arry, the Order needs you."

"Bye Hagrid," Harry waved as the half-giant closed the door with a slam, leaving him alone in the room once again. "I guess I'll go in the morning," He muttered to himself, before reaching back and fluffing his pillow up a little. "That should be interesting." He leaned back and closed his eyes, and before he knew it, he was already fast asleep.

Harry pulled his cloak over his broad chest at nine a.m. the next morning, hoping to secure whatever warmth he could from leaving his body. Beautiful white snow was starting to fall from the sky, the clouds above having been overcastted for a few days before. He walked down the lone and long street of Godric's Hollow, the birthing place of Godric Gryffindor that was named after the wizard over a thousand years ago. He could see in the distance the dilapidated cottage that his parents once called home, which now served as a memorial for all of the people that Voldemort had killed during his first rise to power over twenty years ago, and his heart skipped a beat as the thought of his parents popped into his mind: their happy, smiling faces was always in the reaches of his thoughts. He continued walking down the street until finally coming to a stop in front of a small house with a rusted metal gate at the beginning of the property.

Knowing, somehow, that this is where he'd be, he pushed open the gate and walked up the front path, through what seemed to be a garden, though there looked to be more weeds than anything else. Harry neared the door; it was of a cherry wood and had knick marks in the façade, a nervous excitement overcoming him. He tapped on the door twice, two quick knocks, and took a step back, waiting patiently for the occupants to come. Then, slowly, the door swung open, revealing the aged man that Harry had seen a few times before. He had long, curly gray hair, brown eyes, and a wild look about him that created a darkness around him that was somewhat charming—though Harry had been up close to him before, he had never really, truly taken a good look at him until now. "Harry," He said, giving the younger wizard a small smile that showed his relatively decent teeth.

"Gellert." Harry replied, returning the smile, though it wasn't as broad as it normally would be. Gellert Grindelwald moved out of the doorway, knowing it was cold out, and allowed Harry passage into the home. The house smelt like it had just been cleaned: there was a hint of an odor of old age, of dust, and of unwashed clothes. He gestured for Harry to take a seat at a small, polished tea table in the corner of the living room, right next to a wide bay window, which gave a panorama of the mountains in the distance—Harry's house was just on the other side of one of the peaks. The wizard left the room, going into the kitchen, before returning a few minutes later with a tray of cookies and a kettle of tea. He set them softly down on the table and took a seat in one of the chairs, across from Harry.

The pair quietly made their tea, taking a sip from their respective cups after it was just the way they liked it. "So," Gellert said, putting his cup down and resting his cookie on his plate. "What brings you to me? Usually I'm the one who does the traveling." He said, amiably, a hint of interest in his tone.

"Why are you helping us? Helping me?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. He wasn't going to use any false pretences, he was here for answers and he wanted to get right to them. Here he was, one of the darkest and most powerful wizards ever, helping the light fight off the coming darkness that was spreading like a plague over the land—it went against everything that Harry had known and believed.

"When I first came here, I looked in the mirror, but all I could see was the specter of myself reflected; the empty shell of me." Gellert Grindelwald said, looking out of the window, into the distance. "I spent fifty-eight years locked away, trapped, cut off from the rest of the world. With nothing but your thoughts to be with, your own loneliness, it gets you thinking: thinking about how you may have been wrong about everything; thinking about how you let down your best, and just about only, friend. He's dead, I can't change that, I know, but I can help him out. I can do what he didn't finish, in teaching you to take over for him to fight guys like me and Voldemort."

"The great and evil Grindelwald wanting to atone for his sins?" Harry said, amazed at the depths of this man's character. It was hard for a wizard that dark, that talented to suck down his pride and admit he was wrong, and if a wizard was willing to do that, he deserved some credit and respect. "I never would have imagined it." Grindelwald continued to look out of the window, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, not even hearing what Harry was saying.

_He apparated a few miles away, continuing on his path towards Great Britain, knowing something was wrong, that something wasn't right. Finally, three days after he left Nurmengard, he reached France, and then a day later, England. Once in Great Britain, he apparated to Wales, to Godric's Hollow, where he appeared outside of his aunt's home, the home he had lived in for almost a year: the year when he had met and befriended Albus. _

_Slowly, he walked up to the gate and opened it up, then continued up the path until he reached the door: the paint was chipped. Reaching up, he tapped the door three times, waiting for his aunt to answer. She did after a few minutes, creaking open the door, covering her eyes from the sun. "Hello, aunt Bathilda." He said in a whisper, his voice croaky due to lack of use. _

"_You." She replied, narrowing her eyes upon the man. "What do you want?"_

"_A home." He answered, easily. He gave her a small, toothless smile, pushing his long, grayish hair out of his face. She looked at him, studying him before moving off to the side, pushing the door open more and giving him entrance into her house. She was old, much older than he was, and was barely up to his waist; though, quite frankly, he was a very tall fellow. "Thank you," he said, honestly. He didn't think she'd allow him in, surely she knew about what he had done; all the horrible, atrocious acts that he had committed during his reign of darkness. He could not remember half of them, nor could he remember even the people that he had enslaved and entrapped in Nurmengard, but he doubted the world was as forgetful as he was when it came to what exactly he had done. _

"_When did you escape?" She questioned, the tone of her voice was somewhat harsh._

"_Escape?" He laughed, sarcastically. "I wasn't in prison; well, not a prison made by any Ministry on earth. I was locked up in my fortress by Albus, and when he died, the enchantments went with him, allowing me to leave."_

"_Shame Dumbledore died," Bathilda sighed, walking into the kitchen; her legs were short, so she mostly waddled. "What, with You-Know-Who out there, I don't know how the Ministry plans on fighting him without Dumbledore around. Though, I suppose Potter is doing a decent enough job as the leader of the pack these days."_

"_Hm." Grindelwald muttered, running a hand over his eyes, exhausted and famished from his imprisonment and journey. _

"_Use the bathroom to clean yourself up, you smell." Bathilda ordered, nodding her head towards the door. "There are some clothes in your old room."_

"_Thank you, auntie." Grindelwald said, looking at the woman with his brown eyes. "It means a lot to me that you let me into your home. I'm….I'm sorry for everything that I've done to you and this world, and I promise that I will make up for everything ten fold. No matter what I have to do, I will repent, I will atone, and I will be contrite." Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, entering the bathroom a few seconds later. He didn't know if even he believed what he said, but he knew that he would have to say them in order to stick around and figure out what to do next with his life. _

_He looked into the mirror, seeing himself for the first time in just under sixty years. He was old, ugly, and dirty: his teeth were rotted and mostly missing, his hair was matted down and covered in grime, and his skin was darkened by dirt and was pulled so tightly to his face that it made him look like a walking corpse. Long gone were the days where his brown eyes twinkled in mischief and arrogance, where his handsome features glowed in such magnificence that it made people swoon._

_He sighed, grabbed the towel to the side, ran some water over it, and wiped the dirt off of his face. Then, he turned on the water tap in the shower, disrobed himself, and stepped under the flow, shivering slightly at the feeling. He stayed under for close to a half an hour, using soap and shampoo to clean off the filth, before he turned off the water and threw on a towel. He exited the bathroom and strolled over to his old room, his old body feeling clean for the first time in over a half of a century. He took a deep breath as he stomped to his old room, and upon pushing the door open with a creak, he was immediately hit with the smell of dust. He smiled, being lost in memories of his past as he got dressed in some of his old robes; which were still in his closet, untouched and unchanged. The robes were much too big for him, his shoulders having seemingly shrunk in girth as he aged, but still, they fit well enough for him to wear. _

_After getting dressed in his rather dated wardrobe, he went back out to the living room where Bathilda had set up a lunch for them to share. Cheeses, breads, and fruit were on display, and Gellert hungrily dug into all of them, his taste buds being tested for the first time in a long, long time. Bathilda broke the silence that had loomed since they began eating by asking, "Do you know what's going on out there?" She gestured to the window, and in turn the outside world, referencing the war against Voldemort. _

"_I know who Voldemort," Bathilda shivered at the name. "Is, and I've gotten bits and pieces about what's happening from newspapers, but other than that, no." Gellert answered, taking a sip of his drink._

"_You always did seem to know things when you shouldn't, even as a teenager you seemed to be wiser and more knowledgeable than most grownups. How you know who You-Know-Who is even, I don't know; I assume you've known who he is for a while now, no?" Bathilda questioned, receiving a nod from Gellert. "He is a tyrant of a wizard, someone who wants to rule over us with fear and repression. He hates muggles and muggle-borns, and desires for nothing more than their death and utter eradication. Thirty years ago, he began his rise of power, lasting for ten years and gaining more followers and power before a boy beat him named Harry Potter, the boy who lived. It took him another twenty years to regain his body, how he survived after being defeated by Potter, no one knows, but he's back now and resuming his fight against all that is good and honorable in the world."_

"_Horcruxes." Gellert said to Bathilda._

"_What?" His aunt replied, not knowing what that meant._

_Gellert shook his head, telling her to forget it. "Never you mind, tell me about this Potter fellow." _

_For the next hour and a half, Bathilda told her nephew the story of Harry Potter. Everything the witch knew about the man, from his days in Hogwarts to his triumphs in the World Cup was relayed to Gellert Grindelwad—who, for the most part, nodded attentively. Bathilda seemed to know more than the general public due to her close relationship to Albus Dumbledore, whom had always visited her for a cup of tea during his retreats back to his home in Godric's Hollow during the summers and holidays. _

"You weren't ready for this, Harry." Gellert said, quietly, coming out of his memory-induced stupor. "Sure, you have the skill and talent to one day be as great as Dumbledore, but you're just not as wise as he was—my guess is that you needed at least another ten years in his presence in order to gain his sense of future and understanding. Don't take this the wrong way, boy," Gellert noticed Harry's falling face. "I'm not saying anything bad about you; I'm saying the situation you were thrown into is bad."

"I know what you mean." Harry nodded, looking at the bottom of his teacup. There was still some left over sugar, and he quietly twirled the cup, watching as the sugar moved in a circular motion.

"Personally," Gellert replied, pouring Harry some more tea. "I think that Lupin fellow or the Death Eater spy should be leading the Order until you are truly ready. Though they are not the most powerful of your members, other than you that title goes to your friend Cedric and your godfather, they do understand the most about magic than anyone else."

"Death Eater spy? Snape?" Harry questioned back.

"Yes, Snape." Gellert replied back with a small nod of his head. "The other one is only the same age as you are, no?"

"Kylie? Yeah, he's just a few months older." Harry answered in agreement, and then the pair went silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Let's play a little game, Harry." Gellert said, pushing his seat back from the table a little. "In your opinion, who do you think is the most dangerous Death Eater that Voldemort has in his hordes?"

"Who is the most dangerous?" Harry pondered, biting his lip. "That's Dolohov, female Lestrange, or Crouch's son, right?"

"They're the most powerful, sure, but not the most dangerous. When answering the question, think about the Death Eaters who know you, who know how you'll react and respond to something; think about the elements of danger besides just brute strength and force. Think about it." Gellert smiled, knowing that this mind game would help Harry in the future.

"Quirrell knows me since he did teach me for a year." Harry muttered, trying to think about the question.

"Quirrell is the left hand man to Voldemort, Harry, second only to Crouch. He is obviously dangerous and powerful, but there is another, even more so than either Crouch or Quirrell, someone that might be overlooked." Gellert murmured, leaning towards Harry in anticipation.

"Pettigrew?" Harry answered after a moment of thought.

Grindlewald nodded, a grin forming on his face. "While he is more talented than many of you will give him credit for, Peter Pettigrew is also the most dangerous Death Eater that Voldemort has in his arsenal. I believe Voldemort knows that as well, and has been using him for the betterment of his cause for quite sometime." He laughed at Harry's amused expression, the man clearly impressed with his knowledge. "I've read every Daily Prophet for the last year. My aunt never throws anything away." He gestured around the room, where it was littered with various articles about Voldemort.

"Still," Harry replied, having a sneaking suspicion that there was more to Grindelwald than just newspapers. "How do you know so much? Surely it can't be all from the newspaper."

"That Boderick Bode lives down the street." Grindlewald gestured to the window, specifically to the street outside. "I make sure I run into him as a friendly neighbor and scour his mind for whatever I can find. He doesn't know who I am; he just thinks I am an old wizard who moved here to enjoy his retirement."

Harry nodded, but then cocked an eyebrow, saying, "But that doesn't answer how you knew about everything, there are things that I never said in a meeting that Bode was in."

"My grandmother was my aunt Bathilda's sister." Gellert began, seemingly changing the subject. "She's old, older than anyone else in Britain, save for perhaps Griselda Marchbanks. Do you know what her father was, what he did for a living?" Harry shook his head, not knowing where this was going. "He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, a position he held long before Albus and I were even born. There's his portrait right over there." Gellert pointed to the wall, where an empty picture frame was hanging; it was about the same size as the portrait of Phineas Nigellus in Grimmauld Place.

"He overhears conversations held between McGonagall and other people in her office, and comes back and tells you?" Harry whispered, bringing it all together.

"Exactly! Plus," he grinned. "He speaks with Dumbledore about many things and Dumbledore often confides in him, which he quickly relays to me so I can decide on the best course of action—or, at the very least, stay back in the shadows and steer you in the right direction if need be." Harry nodded understandingly. "Like I assume you already know, you are no Albus Dumbledore, you are…" Harry interrupted him before he could finish what he was going to say.

"Trust me, I know I'm not Albus." Harry sighed. "I did something that he would never do."

"Hm?" Gellert prodded, wanting Harry to continue.

Harry looked down at the table, before looking back up and meeting Gellert's gaze. "I killed Rookwood, used the Killing Curse on him."

"He would have used the Killing Curse when he was your age, as well, Harry." Gellert responded, knowing that what he said was true. "It was not until his later years, while he was working with Nicholas Flamel, that he changed his opinion to what you knew it to be. Don't let that tarnish your self-image, using that curse does not make you evil—it makes you human. What were you going to do, let Rookwood go to Azkaban? Voldemort would have broken him out within weeks. Killing these so called wizards and witches, these magical fiends that are destroying all that you hold dear is, in my mind, the only way that you should go about your struggle. Of course, I am not someone you should be debating the moral usage of magic with, however, so take my opinion for what its worth."

Harry laughed at that, feeling a little better, though not much. "I'm sorry I interrupted you, continue."

"Like I was saying, you are not Albus, that is correct, but you are somebody: you are Harry Potter. You are the future of good magic; you will mean something to this world one day that mirrors what Albus meant to this world." Grindelwald paused for a moment, took a sip of his tea, and then finished by saying, "Fate chose wisely with you, Harry, don't ever question that."

"I do question it." Harry admitted, the fact that he was talking to one of the darkest wizards of all time not escaping him. "There's something inside of me that partially wants to fight, wants to show my dominance."

"I don't know if anyone has told you this, but do you know that Albus was asked to be the British Minister of Magic three times?" Grindelwald questioned, having experienced the feelings of darkness that Harry was fighting in himself and also having witnessed them in Dumbledore, as well. "And all three times he denied the post."

"I've been told that, yes." Harry answered, nodding his head.

"Do you know why he denied it? He didn't trust himself with power, Harry. Albus Dumbledore felt the same way you did when he was this age. It's eerie, really, how similar you are to him, though there are differences, which I cannot deny."

"He was afraid to be in a position of power." Harry said, though Gellert knew it was more of a statement to himself than anything else. "That is why he said he wasn't suited for all three Hallows."

Gellert flicked his eyes over to Harry quickly at the mention of the Deathly Hallows. "He still had aspirations of finding them all?"

"Yes, he told me one time." Harry nodded, noticing the sudden change in demeanor from Grindelwald. He knew that it was the man's lifelong goal to collect all of the objects of power, relics that Harry had in his possession, though he dared not let it be known.

"Knowing him, they probably fell right into his lap." Gellert grunted, earning a laugh from Harry. "They did, didn't they? Figures." His eyes met Harry's, and he gave a small frown. "The pride that Voldemort has makes him capable of the biggest oversights. His confidence forces him to overlook the minor details. He misses the little things because he thinks of himself as grand, as someone who is impossible to be out thought. And that will be his downfall. Wait," He said, getting up and rushing out of the room and over to a bookshelf that was in his bedroom. He came out a few seconds later, holding a large tome in his hands. He handed the book over to Harry and took his seat again, watching as Harry studied the book.

Harry looked down at the book: it was old, dirtied, and cracking at the spine. The front cover read _Arcanus Grimoire: Dueling the Dark Arts with the Dark Arts_. The author's name was Pyramidas Furmat, a name that Harry couldn't help but recognized. "Pyramidas Furmat? Isn't he the curse breaker?"

"Pyramidas was much, much more than a simple curse breaker." Grindelwald corrected, almost affronted by Harry's ignorance. "Is a mountain a simple stone? Is the ocean a measly puddle? Pyramidas was a great wizard, and the only reason he isn't known as much as the others of his time, such as Merlin or Morgana is because he didn't want to be known."

"Dumbledore had a lot of his books in the trunk that he gave me." Harry noted, wondering if the man known as Pyramidas Furmat had any significance to the pair.

"I'm sure he would." Grindelwald nodded. "Pyramidas was a wizard that we both spoke about when we were teenagers; we became friends over his writings. He wouldn't have this one, however; I found it on my search for the Deathly Hallows in Greece before coming to stay with my great aunt."

Harry flipped through a few pages, before closing it, content to study it later. "Thank you."

"Use it, don't use it, either way it's yours now." Grindelwald shrugged, not really caring what Harry did with the book; he had already gotten his uses out of it, so giving it away was not that big of a deal.

Harry nodded, finished up his tea and remained silent for a moment, trying to figure out how he would phrase what he was about to say. "So, I think the question that must be asked is…are you good now?"

Gellert gave a wheezing laugh in response to that, shaking his head slightly. "Good, no, I can't say that I am. Am I over my evil phase? I would have to say so, yes, but the reason I do not consider myself good is because I would not change anything in my life. If I had to do it over again, I would continue on the same path that I took in the first place, which is unfortunate. I'm not here because I am outraged by what Voldemort is doing, I'm here because Albus did not get to accomplish what he wanted to with you and I will not let him fail: if he had nothing to do with this, then I wouldn't be here either, I would have simply crept back into the shadows of solitude."

"Understood." Harry nodded and rose to his feet, feeling that the meeting was over and that he had gotten all the information that he needed. "Do you know whose curse it was that killed Arianna?" Harry questioned, wondering about the answer to the question that had haunted Albus Dumbledore for most of his life.

Grindelwald looked away, not daring to meet Harry's gaze for fear of intrusion into his mind. "I will not answer that question."

"It was his, wasn't it?" Again, Gellert did not meet Harry's eye, unintentionally giving Harry the answer to the question. "You've become a good man, Gellert. I can tell you loved him dearly."

"I'm a good wizard, Harry, not a good man." Gellert replied as Harry opened the door and took a step out into the cold. "Always remember that there's a difference."

At sunrise the next morning, Harry walked through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, his crimson Hit Wizard robes billowing behind him. He gave a wave to a few of the Hit Wizards that were leaving the office, done for the night, before he entered himself, internally hoping that he wouldn't get any calls during the day. He had a lot of work to do with the potion he needed to make and would rather spend his time doing that than fighting off Voldemort's cronies. He grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment as he passed his cubicle and then headed into the lounge area that most of the Hit Wizards used while they waited to either be called out or until their shift ended. It housed a small icebox, a stove, tables and chairs, and a few couches that many Hit Wizards would sit and listen to the wireless on.

Harry was the first to arrive in the room and he quietly took a seat at a table in the corner, away from where he believed the others would sit. He bit the end of the quill in thought, trying to develop his own way of stripping the Horcruxes without destroying them. He knew he would use the potion as an outline, but since he could not get all of the necessary ingredients, he would have to find a clever way of getting around that simple fact; he knew he could do it, but also understood that it would take some time. The door swung open just then and Harry's attention was drawn to it, and he smiled as he saw two of his colleagues come into the room.

"Potter?" One of them said in an Irish brogue, his eyes a dull blue color. "You're here early. Thicknesse asked for you when I arrived, but I said I didn't think you were here yet."

"He did?" Harry asked, getting up from his seat and walking to the door. "I'll go talk to him, thanks for telling me."

"Aye." The man said as he grabbed the teakettle and began to make some tea.

Harry walked down the cubicle-lined hallway, heading towards Pius Thicknesse's office. As the Head of the Hit Wizards, he was Harry's direct supervisor and would often call his favorite people into his office for a casual meeting to make sure they were okay and handling things all right; Harry assumed that was what this was for. He gave a knock on Thicknesse's open wooden door, and after being waved it, he entered the room.

"Potter," Thicknesse said, his voice more gravely than usual. Harry cocked an eyebrow at him, noticing the glazed over look that his eyes had.

"Sir," Harry replied, giving a small smile. "I heard you wanted to see me."

"Yes, yes, take a seat." Thicknesse muttered, as he used his wand to close the door. "That Order of the Phoenix that Dumbledore used to run, you're in charge of it now, aren't you?"

"Excuse me, sir?" Harry asked, wondering why Thicknesse was asking such questions, especially so abruptly like that. They had no prior conversation about such matters, and before now, Harry had thought Thicknesse knew nothing about it.

"Yes, yes, Scrimgeour told me." Thicknesse replied, his voice telling Harry something was wrong, but what was it?

"And?" Harry cocked an eyebrow, trying to draw out what it was: he had narrowed it down to him either being enchanted by a potion or under the Imperious. "I don't know what Scrimgeour thinks, but I don't know anything about this Order of the Phoenix."

"You don't know anything?" Thicknesse growled his voice crackling.

"No, I don't. What did you want to know, anyway?" Harry asked, wondering what it was that the man was after.

Thicknesse looked at Harry pointedly, but for some reason, his emotions didn't seem to show in his eyes. "So you don't know who the Order has spying on the Dark Lord as we speak?"

"I doubt this Order can have anyone that powerful slip into Voldemort's grasp." Harry lied, not wanting to give anything away to the Death Eaters or Voldemort.

"Very well," Thicknesse nodded and went back to his work, quietly. "You may leave."

Harry nodded and got to his feet, leaving the room and closing the door with a soft click. He walked back down the hallway but he did not return to the lounge, instead he continued on out of the office and headed towards the Auror office. He knew that Gawain Robards, the Head of the Office, needed to know that Pius Thicknesse was under the Imperius Curse; plus, he always wanted to see how deep the spies for the Death Eaters were. He arrived just as Gawain was entering his personal office; a cup of tea was firmly in his hands as he set his things down on his oak desk. "Excuse me, sir, I'm sorry to come to you so early but I have a matter to discuss with you."

"Potter? Ah, it's good to see you." Gawain motioned for Harry to come in. He took a seat behind his desk, placing his teacup down onto the paper-covered wood. "What's on your mind? It's not everyday that I get a visit from you."

"We have a serious problem." Harry started, swishing his wand at Gawain's door and closing it, preventing anyone from overhearing them. "I believe that Pius Thicknesse has fallen under the Imperius."

Gawain's eyes went wide at the implications of what Harry had said. "Surely, you're mistaken."

"No," Harry shook his head. "He called me into his office just now and asked me all these strange questions that he would never, ever have asked if he wasn't cursed."

"We have a meeting with Rufus and Amelia later today." Gawain told Harry, writing something on a piece of parchment with a feather quill. "If what you tell me is true and I do believe it to be, they could be in serious danger. I want a few of your Hit Wizard comrades around Amelia's office today at two p.m., just in case. He might try to put us all under the curse, and if that were to happen, well, the Ministry would be in You-Know-Who's full control."

"I don't know if I can get them there without arousing Thicknesse's suspicion." Harry thought out loud.

"I'll talk to Pius at lunch, and tell him that I want extra precaution because we are bringing in someone who we think can defeat You-Know-Who. We'll restrain him there and see what we can find out from him. Hopefully, Pius did not fall under their control willingly." Gawain answered Harry's fears, knowing that if Pius did give himself over to the Death Eaters, both he and the Ministry would be in trouble.

"Pius was committed to the war against Voldemort," Gawain shivered at the name, but Harry paid no attention to it. "He would never give himself over without a fight."

"I believe that too, Harry, but these are dark times." Gawain replied, remembering how in the last war, no one knew who was friend or enemy. Then, changing the subject as a thought popped into his head, he said, "Can I ask you about your friend Cedric, apparently he wants to marry my daughter, Gaetana?" Harry smiled at that, having a feeling that Gawain would be deposing him about the moral fortitude of his best friend.

After lunch that day, Harry walked outside of the meeting room where the high officials of the Ministry, including the Minister herself, Amelia Bones, were locked in discussion about the future of the Ministry. Pius had just been subdued and was now being taken away by Harry and Kingsley to a safe place, presumably until the end of the war. Kingsley had been the one who had stunned him, having been called back from his mission of protecting the muggle Prime Minister in order to further protect Minister Bones. They turned down a hallway and walked down a flight of stairs, before appearing on a small wing of the bottom most floor, hidden away from the rest of the Ministry building.

This was where they housed criminals or other witches and wizards who had not stood trial and been sentenced just yet; most of them would be heading to Azkaban, while a very few of them would be released. "It's a shame that we have to put him here."

"Yeah," Kingsley replied in agreement. "But it's for the safety of the entire Ministry, I'm sure he'd understand if he was himself." The light above him flickered on and off, he quickly looked up and down the hall. "It's here."

"What is?" Harry questioned, confusedly.

Kingsley looked over to Harry, a smirk appearing on his dark face. "A single Dementor of the five loyal to the Ministry mans this wing." Kingsley said to Harry, information that surprised the younger wizard. "It's a secret, so don't go blabbing to anyone about it. It comes once an hour, taking enough of the prisoner's will to live to keep them from trying to escape."

"Is that really necessary?" Harry questioned, internally struggling with his feelings on the matter. On one hand, it kept the prisoners in check, something that the Dementors excelled at, regardless of their fiendish nature. On the other hand, he still didn't trust Dementors and didn't think it was right that the Ministry was subjugating potentially innocent people to their powers.

"Scrimgeour believes it is." Kingsley shrugged, though Harry could tell that he wasn't exactly for it either.

They placed Thicknesse in the cell farthest from the doorway; it was a small room, but it was filled with comfortable furniture and seemed more like a hotel room than a holding cell. Harry waved his wand over Thicknesse's body and the man awaked immediately. "Where am I?" He questioned with a confused look on his face.

"Look at me." Harry said, holding his wand in his right hand tightly. "Look at me." He said again, this time getting a response from Pius. The second their eyes met, their minds were connected and Harry had access to all Pius knew. He flipped through the memories, before coming to one that had three Death Eaters in it.

_Yaxley, Barty Crouch, and Mulciber all stood over Pius, who was bound and gagged on the floor. "Do it, Mulciber, so we can move on to get that oaf quidditch player." Crouch muttered, looking down at Thicknesse with a hint of disgust. "You brought this on yourself, blood traitor."_

"_Right away," Mulciber grinned at his pray, and after taking his wand into his hands, he pointed it at the man and muttered, "Imperio." There was a small flash of blue light, and Thicknesse's eyes went dull, immediately being consumed by the Imperius Curse. "It is done."_

"_Very well," Crouch nodded, before turning to Yaxley, who stood not ten feet behind him. "Good job, Yaxley. You actually did something right for a change."_

Harry pulled out of Thicknesse's mind, and looked over Shacklebolt. "He's innocent. Mulciber was the one who cursed him."

"That's good; at least his reputation won't be destroyed now." Kingsley muttered, gesturing for Harry to leave the cell with him.

Harry exited the chamber, and while his eyes roamed the hallway for any danger as Shacklebolt locked Thicknesse's cell with the proper charms, his mind drifted back to the book he was supposed to be reading and the ritual that he would perform to strip the Horcruxes of Voldemort's soul. It would happen in two days time, with or without being able to save the artifacts from being destroyed. It would happen in two days…

AN: There is significance in what Barty Crouch said in Thicknesse's memory. As for Grindelwald, more will be explained soon.

AN 2: I'm thinking about writing a sequel to this story with all of the surviving characters. Should I do that? Or should I write a whole other story? Should I tackle another tough pairing with Harry, maybe Bellatrix Lestrange? Though, I freely admit that if I did that, it would involve time travel, because I'm not having Harry and Bellatrix being thirty years different in age. Review and let me know what you think. I'm open to all ideas.


	36. Potion of Destruction

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Sorry for the wait, but this is a long chapter, so I think it makes up for it. This semester of law school has been bad to me, but once it ends, I'll be able to focus more on the story. This was tough to write, I have to admit, because there is so much going on: a lot, a lot of plots are being tied together, which is difficult to manage.

S/N 2: Here is a little nugget of information- Harry's wand in this story is ebony, 12 3/4', phoenix feather, limber, good for charm work. I orginally had it as blackthorn, 12.5', phoenix feather, subtle, good for charm work, but changed it.

Chapter 36: Potion of Destruction

Harry Potter rolled over in his bed late in the night, his closed eyes as they moved around their sockets as if he was watching something in his sleep. His mind was locked into a vivid dream and beads of sweat were rushing down his forehead, stopping on his brow as he kicked the covers off of his lower body. Next to him, Nymphadora rolled over onto her side, still deeply asleep, unaware of her husband's actions. After another moment of thrashing, Harry calmed down and his body went unmoving, though sweat was still accumulating on his forehead. While his body was immobile, his mind however was still dreaming a nightmare that was his worst fear, one that would make him rethink his actions in the coming days.

_As Harry and other members of the Order were sitting in the basement of Grimmauld Place, a small, silver patronus lynx appeared in front of him. "The Ministry has fallen." The lynx said in Shacklebolt Kingsley's deep, echoic voice. "Bones is dead." _

_Harry's eyes bulged at the sudden proclamation, a lump immediately appearing in his throat as his stomach turned queasy. "That…that can't be." He said in confusion, having no idea how such a thing could happen. His mind drifted over to Nymphadora, who was still in the Ministry working, and he silently wished that she was safe and all right. "We have to go. The Ministry cannot fall!" He jumped up to his feet, took his wand into his hand, and looked down at everyone that was in the room. "I understand if you don't want to come."_

"_We're coming." All of them said, as they too got to their feet. With loud pops, they all apparated out of the room, appearing in the atrium of the Ministry just seconds later._

_Immediately, they were attacked by a small group of Death Eaters who were guarding the fireplaces. Before any more Death Eaters could come, Harry released a silver curse that exploded outwards with a gunshot-like noise, and the six Death Eaters fell to the ground, unconscious. "Tie them up, and if anyone else comes, stupefy them and snap their wands." Harry ordered, pointing to four Order members. "The rest of you, come with me. I'm sure there are Aurors and Hit Wizards fighting somewhere around here that need our help."_

_They made their way through the halls of the Ministry, where debris and bodies were thrown about, sprawled across the cold marble floor. Every so often, Death Eaters would creep out of the shadows, but would be quickly subdued by Order members. As they rounded the corner of the hallway that led to the Auror Office, they ran into a large skirmish amongst Death Eaters and Aurors—Harry sighed in relief when he saw that Tonks was still alive and fighting. She had a gash underneath her left eye, but it seemed she was otherwise fine. _

_The Death Eaters had just noticed them, as well, and half of their numbers turned around and guarded the backs of the other half. "It's a small hallway, Harry." Cedric noted, seeing how the Death Eaters were scrunched in between the two walls._

"_I have an idea," Sirius whispered. "Muffliato morsmordre!" He called out, moving his wand in a jerking fashion. An unidentifiable buzzing noise entered the Death Eaters' ears, which not only prevented them from overhearing anything the Order said, but also confused them and made them lose their concentration. "Everyone, throw a stunner on the count of three." Sirius yelled out, making sure that the Aurors on the other side of the hallway had heard him. "One, two, three, stupefy!"_

_Flashes of red light all left their wands, taking up every walking spot within the hallway, and with a thud, every single Death Eater fell to the ground, unconscious. "Harry!" Tonks screamed, sidestepping the Death Eaters' bodies and running towards her husband, engulfing him in a large hug when she reached him. "They just attacked us, and before we knew it, the entire Ministry was overrun with Death Eaters and Imperiused wizards." _

"_Where is Voldemort?" Harry questioned with an edge to his voice: he wanted this to be over. He had waited far too long, had let far too many nights pass with Voldemort still alive and capable of spreading his darkness, but it would end that day, one way or another. _

"_He was heading towards the Minister's Office." An Auror that Harry didn't know said, as others started to bound and gag the Death Eaters. _

"_Either snap or confiscate their wands." He heard someone else say, though he couldn't place the voice. _

_Before they knew what was happening, Death Eaters started to appear from nowhere, and a new skirmish began in full. Harry and Nymphadora stayed close to each other, as a group of Order members made their way to the stairwell that would allow them to reach the bottom level of the Ministry, where the Minister's Office was. "The Dark Lord has put a taboo on his name." A Death Eater sneered as he fought an Auror. "We are notified the location of a person even speaking his name, anytime, anywhere."_

_Meanwhile, on the stairs, Harry and the other members of the Order gasped as they saw that the stairs were clogged with bodies of Ministry Officials, seemingly still alive, but without their souls: they had been kissed by the Dementors. As they reached the level of the Minister's Office, Harry looked back at the other seven people that were with him, giving them a small smile of confidence. Then, turning the doorknob, he entered the hallway that led to the office; his eyes met with two Death Eaters, who stood on opposite sides of the door, guarding the entrance. _

_He looked down onto the marble tiled floor, and gave a small frown of sorrow as he saw Kingsley's dead body. "I'm sorry, Kingsley." He whispered to himself, as others gasped behind him as they too saw Kingsley's dead form. _

"_You guys go ahead, we'll take them." Sirius and Remus both said, taking a step forward and holding their wands chest high. The Death Eaters for some reason allowed them to pass and Harry threw open the doors with his wand, finally reaching the Minister's Office, and hopefully, Voldemort._

"_Ah, Harry Potter, you have arrived." Voldemort said, silkily, as he leaned against the large oak desk of former Minister Bones. He was wearing a long black robe, but his hood was not up, revealing his bone-white features and scarlet red eyes._

"_Everyone leave us." Harry barked, staring at Voldemort with hatred in his green gaze. He had an evil smirk on his snake-like face and his red eyes were showing a rebellious arrogance that made all the members of the Order angry. _

"_But, Harry, we could help you." Cedric replied slowly, not wanting his dear friend to be murdered just like Kingsley was. He thought that with their combined skills and powers, they would be able to destroy Voldemort, something that no one had been capable of doing alone before. _

"_No, I can't risk you getting hit in the cross fire. Leave, now!" He ordered, nodding his head to the door. They all looked at Harry cautiously before turning and running towards the door that Harry had gestured to. Voldemort didn't make a move to stop them, knowing that this would be the final battle with the Potter whelp no matter what the outcome was. It was a fight written by the fates; a fight that was started twenty years ago; a fight that would end with one's death. _

_Harry threw a brilliant violet curse at the Dark Lord, catching him off guard. Voldemort was able to dodge it, however, and banished the desk at Harry. Harry pointed his wand at the desk and it immediately exploded, spraying wooden debris all over the office. Just then, a red curse came whizzing at Voldemort from the doorway, forcing him to summon a metal shield to block it; the curse clanged off of the bronze shield before hitting the wall and fizzling out. Again, another curse came from the door, and then another, and another, and for the first time, Voldemort saw that the other members of the Order didn't leave like he thought they did. Instead, all they had done was close the doors, which prevented any other Death Eater from coming in, and then turned their wands on the Dark Lord, intent on helping Harry defeat Voldemort. _

"_Quit interfering! You're all so anxious to die, aren't you? Well, all you had to do was ask!" Voldemort screamed, whipping his wand towards them and sending out a sickly yellow beam at them. _

Just as the beam made contact with their bodies, Harry's green eyes jerked open, beads of sweat racing down his brow even more so than before. "What was that?" He whispered to himself quietly, not wanting to wake Nymphadora. Harry silently made his way out of the room, heading down to the kitchen, and when he arrived, he made himself a small breakfast and tried to figure out what it was exactly that he had just experienced.

An hour later and with a full stomach, Harry Potter stood in front of the bookshelf that was inside the trunk that Harry had received from Dumbledore. Now that he knew what to look for, Harry noticed that nearly a quarter of the books on the shelf were written by Pyramidas Furmat. He ran his eyes over the bottom shelf of books, and when he saw a book entitled 'Known History of Freyjavangr,' he cocked an eyebrow, but did not think anything of it. He searched for another few moments, but didn't find a book that he wanted and he turned to leave; as he took a step towards the ladder, the pensieve that Dumbledore had left in the trunk caught his eye. He ran his left index finger over the stone basin, feeling the writing that was engraved on it: The Chariot of Light.

"What does that mean?" He asked himself, still trying to figure out the significance of that. He doubted it was just a reminder by Dumbledore that he was fighting the good fight like Sirius had suggested, but he couldn't think of anything else; he couldn't think of anything deeper to it.

He exited the trunk soon later, and after taking a hot shower, he went back to the library and started to peruse the notes that he had taken about the potion during the previous day. They weren't much, just useless ramblings, though a part about mimicking the powers of acromantula did strike him. "You were up early this morning." He heard Tonks voice from the door; he looked up and gave her a smile.

"I couldn't sleep." He replied, hoping not to worry his beautiful wife.

"Is everything okay?" Tonks questioned, wondering if he had had another one of his dreams again.

"Everything's fine." He grinned as he jumped up from the couch and entered his workshop. "I just have a lot of work to do, that's all."

Tonks followed him into the room, and watched as he grabbed a potion book and opened it up on the bench. "Can I help?" She asked, walking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his stomach.

"Sure," Harry nodded, flipping to the pages until he found the one that he needed.

"Its amazing how you can read this." Tonks whispered, peaking over Harry's shoulder and looking at the scratch that was on the dirtied parchment page of the book he was studying.

Harry didn't look up; instead he continued to read as he said, "Read what?"

"This." She pointed down to the book.

"It's in English." Harry replied, confusedly, forgetting that the book he was reading was written completely in parseltongue, the language of the snakes.

Tonks furrowed her brows, wondering what Harry was thinking. "No, it's not Harry."

"It's not? But…" Harry started, but then stopped, giving a small smile as the truth dawned on him. He was concentrating so much on the text, that he completely forgot that it was a parseltongue book. "I guess it's like when I first entered the wizarding world, I thought I was speaking English to snakes, something that everyone could do. I didn't realize I was speaking another language, and it wasn't until Roger told me that I was speaking parseltongue that I realized it was a special gift, something that not everyone possessed. I can control when I speak it now, but I haven't mastered reading just yet. Since it's not a language that you can exactly learn like French or Welsh, it's easy to just slip into without even realizing it."

"I'm sure it is." Tonks grinned, earning a soft slap on the arm from her husband. She had no idea how one even went about speaking parseltongue, let alone being able to write the broken and twisted words down onto a piece of parchment for others to read.

"Let's see." He muttered, running a finger down the passage. "The spell calls for seawater, the ash of fiendfyre, the skin of a runespoor, an egg of an ashwinder, the eyes of an eel, a non-venomous snake tooth, tentacula leaves, a horn of a dragon, a bone of a rat, the flesh of a fish, the venom of an acromantula, and the blood of the potion maker." Harry finished, whistling loudly. "Merlin, this is going to be expensive."

"At least we have an abundance of seawater at our disposal." Tonks replied sarcastically, bringing an air of levity to the room. She couldn't stand how dark and dreary things had gotten lately, though she understood that sometimes it couldn't be helped.

Harry smiled at his wife, admiring how she could find the good in things when they were hidden from the rest of the world. "Make sure you don't touch the potion, okay? The reason why it needs to be the blood of the potion maker is because it protects the maker from being injured. If you touch it…you might very well lose whatever it is that touches the potion, be it your hand or fingers or any other body part." He warned, not wanting her to get hurt by accident.

"Okay," Tonks nodded, giving Harry a small smile as she sat on the stool in the corner of the room.

"I should also add crushed poison ivy leaves, too." Harry said to himself, trying to figure out a way to complete the potion without having all of the necessary ingredients.

"What will that do?" Tonks asked, wondering what it would add to the potion.

"Well, poison ivy, when in conjunction with a magical catalyst such as a dragon horn or a phoenix feather, can take the properties of a more powerful poison within the potion, in this case acromantula poison. Though, obviously it's not the same as actually having acromantula poison, which would be much, much more potent. I'm hoping that if we add them, it will negate the fact that we don't actually have enough acromantula venom."

"Interesting." Tonks nodded, having never known that. While she wasn't very fond of potions, she did manage to get through Snape's NEWT classes, which made her a very impressive potion maker in her own right.

"Can you get me a piece of firewood, please?" Harry asked Tonks; she nodded in response, and then walked out of the room and over to the fireplace to do as her husband asked. She picked up two pieces of small timber, both dry and cracking slightly in the middle, and then walked back into the workshop. "Thank you," Harry replied as Tonks handed the pieces of wood over to him.

"What are they for, the fiendfyre ash?" Tonks asked, wondering if he was going to create his own ash for the spell. She watched as he grabbed a small metal bowl that was charmed to be immune to all forms of heat, and placed the two pieces of wood inside.

"Yes," He nodded, and then backed up, making sure she was safe from the fire.

"Mordens!" He murmured, doing the wand movements and watching as a small stream of fire that was shaped like a snake burst out of the wand and consume the wood in the bowl. He said the counter spell after only a few moments, seeing the wood almost disintegrate into ash immediately. "Very good," He whispered in approval, happy that the first part of his potion was complete.

The pair then walked out into the library, closing the bookshelf behind them. Harry searched for another book, this time a muggle cookbook and pulled on the binding, watching as the bookshelf once again opened up to reveal its secrets. This time, instead of a workshop, it was a storage pantry of all different kinds of potion ingredients—while he kept many potion ingredients in his workshop, those were only the most common ones that he used, and not his entire personal storage. After taking a few steps in, both he and Tonks walked around the small room, gathering whichever ingredients they had, before closing the pantry back up and reopening the workshop.

"Viktor will be here soon." Tonks noted, placing a jar of eel eyes on the bench. "I'll get your large cauldron prepared when you're gone."

"Right," Harry agreed, wiping the grime off of his hands with a red towel. They both walked out, making small conversation to pass the time as they rested and waited for the Bulgarian to arrive.

Not ten minutes later, Viktor Krum walked into the library, smiling at the sight of Tonks and Harry sitting down on one of the couches, waiting for him. "Viktor!" Harry grinned, jumping to his feet and shaking his friend's hand, and then giving him a hug.

"Harry," Viktor replied, his smile broadening as he gave Tonks a kiss on her pink cheeks. "I hope you are doing vell, Tonks. Hermione is very excited for your gathering."

"Good, I am too. Lisa needs it, I think." Tonks nodded; she was having a few girls over in a couple of days, with the intent of cheering Lisa up and regaining her friendships with all of them. She knew that Lisa blamed Harry for Roger's death, and while it was misguided, she could understand the woman's sentiment and because of that, she wanted nothing more than to try and give the witch a smile or two.

"Shall we?" Harry questioned, gesturing to the door, wanting to get started on their ingredient shopping right away.

Viktor nodded and said, "Bye Tonks." The metamorphmagus waved goodbye and watched as her husband and Viktor walked out of the room, presumably to the fireplace down in the sitting room where they would floo to the Leaky Cauldron. When they were out of sight, she turned around and walked back into the workshop, knowing that she had work to do.

After arriving in the Leaky Cauldron, both Harry and Viktor went out back into the courtyard and tapped the brick that would grant them entrance into Diagon Alley. Immediately, the doorway opened, and they started their trek to the various Apothecaries' that Harry needed to go to in order to purchase the ingredients for the potion that he did not have in his stocks. "What the…when did Florean close up?" Harry asked as they walked past the ice cream shop: it had wooden planks on the windows and the door seemed to be bolted shut.

"It vasn't Florean, it vas his niece." Viktor answered, frowning slightly at the sight of Florean Fortescue's shop. "Florean has been gone for months."

"He has?" Harry questioned, confusion written on his face.

Viktor's gaze moved over to him; he had an understanding look in his eyes. "That's right, you vere unconscious." He nodded, remembering when Fortescue was taken by the Death Eaters. "The night that Dumbledore, vell, died, Death Eaters attacked Florean and dragged him out of his home above the shop."

"I had no idea." Harry murmured, his mind reeling. What else had he missed? He honestly didn't have a clue about Florean Fortescue's disappearance, apparently having other stuff on his mind—he liked Florean, and he especially liked the wizard's ice cream. He remembered when the wizard had helped him with homework when he had lived in the Leaky Cauldron during his Hogwarts days; it was something that he greatly appreciated and would never forget.

"You've been busy, it's understandable." Viktor replied as they entered Slug and Jiggers Apothecary.

It was a medium-sized store that had potions of all colors lining the walls, with small letters underneath them in order to tell the purchaser just what they were. In rows in the center of the shop were cabinets with wicker doors that housed a slew of potion ingredients, ranging from dead animals to live plants to inanimate objects from the belly of a goat. In the corner were barrels of a slimy green substance that smelled like rotten eggs. There were live crickets chirping in a box on top of a pedestal, where a witch was quickly gathering what she needed, all the while looking fearfully over her shoulder. At the counter there was a small sign that read 'Beetle Eyes: 5 knuts per scoop.'

Harry and Viktor walked around the store, gathering the ingredients that they needed and that the store stocked. After about twenty minutes, they brought the items up to the counter for purchase, placing them down on the wood for the store worker to count. Harry gave the wizard behind the counter a smile, who replied with a small smile and a nod. "Will that be all?" He said in his old and quiet voice.

"And two unicorn horns, please." Harry replied, looking down at all of his goods. The man's eyes went wide at his proclamation and a larger smile appeared on his face, as if he didn't believe what Harry had said.

"Right away, sir!" He chirped with renewed energy, bustling into the back room to gather the precious object that Harry had asked for. In order to prevent the rare item from being stolen, they kept their stock of unicorn horns in a cabinet in the back, charmed by curses and jinxes that punished thieves if they ever tried to take the horns without paying for them.

"Vhat do you need those for?" Viktor questioned, curiously—he had seen the list of ingredients that Harry had written on a piece of parchment, and unicorn horn wasn't on it.

Harry picked up a jar that was off to the side of the counter, and brought it up to his face, wondering just what it was that was inside of it—it was black, hairy, and looked like a cucumber. "I'm making a batch of Condicto Cocktail just in case the Order needs it." He answered, somewhat disgusted by the jar.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, not recognizing that term. Sure, English was his second language, but he had been speaking it for a long time, making him doubt that it was something that had been lost in translation. "Vhat's that?"

"It's a very powerful potion that can heal people from almost anything if it's prescribed in the right circumstances." Harry replied, finally turning his gaze over to Viktor.

"I've never heard of it." Viktor said as the attendant came back with two silver horns that glowed brightly with an almost divine aura.

"Not many people have." Harry murmured under his breath, understanding how unknown the potion was—in that way, it was sort of like the magic stripping potion he was about to make.

"It'll be twenty-seven galleons, eleven sickles, and four knuts for the items in the bag." The wizard said, counting up everything that Harry had. "And for the two horns, it's forty galleons."

Harry sighed and paid the man with a small smile, before gathering his things and walking outside with Viktor. They didn't go far away, only down one door to the next apothecary, this time 'Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary', Slug and Jiggers' main competition on Diagon Alley. They didn't stay very long in the shop since they had a very similar selection to Slug and Jiggers—when they left the store, they had only purchased one thing, which cost Harry around seven sickles.

After leaving that shop, the pair made their way into Knockturn Alley, giving a small shake of their head to an Auror who was guarding the entrance to the Dark Arts alley. As they reached the bottom of the steps that descended down into the alley, Graham Montague, Marcus Flint, Theodore Nott and Vincent Crabbe came walking out of a dark shop to their left, all of their gazes falling immediately upon Harry. "Well, well, well Potter, long time no see." Graham Montague mocked, slyly making a move for his wand.

Harry's green eyes ran over all of them, a clear look of disdain on his face. "Yes, well, it was a choice of mine to avoid you, Graham. I'm sure you understand."

"We understand much more than you do, Potter." Marcus Flint snickered, reminding Harry so much of a troll that he couldn't help but wonder if Flint actually did have some troll ancestry in him.

"I doubt that." Harry scoffed, a vicious smirk forming onto his face. "If I remember correctly, didn't you have to repeat your sixth year at Hogwarts?"

"It was his seventh." Vincent Crabbe corrected, earning a smack on the back of the head from Flint.

"Shouldn't you be running along, Potter? You know, to protect your sniveling godfather from the big, bad Dementors? Or is it your weirdo wife that you should be protecting?" Theodore Nott muttered, looking over to Viktor, who growled under his breath in response.

"You vere silent for all that time and that's the best you could come up vith?" Viktor mocked, his patience wearing thin. He hated the fact that even with them being known Death Eaters, they were still roaming the streets, free as could be, all because they knew how to protect themselves from the Ministry's grasp.

"No, you slime are simply not _vorth_ it." Theodore laughed, making fun of Viktor's eastern European accent. Viktor made a move towards them, but was stopped by Harry's hand grasping his shoulder.

"I'm sure you all have robes to kiss and boots to lick, so why don't you move on along?" Harry inquired, noticing that the Auror at the entrance of Knockturn Alley had turned his attention to the group and was now looking their way. It wouldn't be good to get into a needless scuffle over a few mean spirited words.

"You'll be getting yours, Potter." Graham Montague scowled, as he walked up a smaller alleyway, moving away from Harry and Viktor.

"You will be getting yours, as well, Montague." Harry replied, tilting his head to the other three Death Eaters. "Flint, Crabbe, Nott, it's been a pleasure."

"Right." Flint muttered sarcastically, following the rest up the alleyway that Montague had went down.

Once they were out of sight, Harry took out his wand and moved it in an explicit motion; a silver stag erupted from the tip as a result, but disappeared instantaneously. "Vhat vas that for?" Viktor questioned him with a curious glance, wondering why he summoned a message patronus.

"I needed to tell Nymphadora something." He replied, cryptically, as he opened the door to a very shady apothecary: it was named 'Nightingale's Potions Apothecary'. Rotten smells and dust immediately besieged their senses, filling their nostrils, their eyes, and even their mouths as they took their first steps into the shop. Harry waved his hand in front of his face, swishing away some dust that was in the air, and then took another step forward, noticing the countless of drawers filled with potion ingredients that were hanging on the wall.

The store was much smaller than the other two, only holding about half as many ingredients. What they did have, however, were ingredients that the other two either couldn't get their hands on or refused to sell, such as human fingernails, teeth, and even shrunken heads. They weren't illegal, they were just…disgusting. Plus, most of the ingredients were too dangerous for the mass public to possess, such as cobra truffles, poisonous fungi that could kill someone if they touched it for longer than five minutes. They both noticed that the witch who was standing behind the counter was reading a magazine, seemingly not knowing that they had come in—or more likely, not caring.

Harry quietly gathered the ingredients that he needed, while Viktor curiously walked around the shop, having never been inside before. He rarely ever entered Knockturn Alley, having no business on the darker side of the wizarding world. He liked the simpler things in life, like quidditch and food, and especially his wife and family and friends. He noticed Harry pick up something dark and hairy, but didn't know what it was and figured that it was something that he didn't want to know about, either. After another minute or two, Harry put all of his items into a bag and brought it up to the witch at the counter, who told him the galleon amount without even looking at what he had. Once paid, he walked back over to Viktor and the pair headed towards Diagon Alley, their business in Knockturn Alley having been completed.

They both sighed when they noticed an accumulation of missing people signs that had been nailed to the wooden post that was off to the side. Nearly twenty posters were there, all with questions regarding the whereabouts of various people. Their eyes roamed over them quickly, knowing that this was a common occurrence in times like this, but Harry didn't see anyone that he didn't already know about: various people in the wizarding world, with Rita Skeeter being the most recognizable of the missing people. With another sigh, they continued on their path to Cedric's office.

When they passed by Gringotts, Harry noticed that there were now two goblins standing at the door, holding Probity Probes in their small hands. The probes, which looked like golden car antennas and were waved over a person's body, prevented people from walking into the bank while under magical disguise or concealment. If the person was caught with something of a concealing nature, the probes would send out a loud beeping noise, akin to a muggle car alarm. He couldn't help but give a small smile at that, knowing that it was his actions that caused the goblins to take such drastic measures—it would calm down eventually, he knew, but that wouldn't be for a while.

Just then, Ludo Bagman stumbled out of the white marble building, scowling at the goblins that were standing by the door. "No good, long fingered fiends." He sneered under his breath, and then after noticing Harry, he gave a bright smile. "Ah, Harry Potter, how is it?"

"Fine, Ludo." Harry nodded, remembering his last altercation with the Ministry Official, when he paid a visit to him after finding out he was disqualified from the English quidditch team. He still held a grudge over the man from that incident, something that didn't surprise him since he knew how angry he had been at the time.

"Good, good, what are you doing on our wonderful Diagon Alley?" Ludo asked, not noticing Harry's displeasure of him. He looked over to Viktor, and after a moment of processing, he exclaimed, "Viktor Krum!"

"Hello," Viktor replied, noticing Harry's unamused face.

"I'm glad to see you two together; I made quite a bag of galleons off of you two last summer." Ludo Bagman noted; his gaze was off into the distance as a smile appeared on his face, as if the thought of his money had just popped into his mind. "Better times, those were."

"We should be going, Bagman. It's been…a pleasure." Harry replied, his countenance expressionless.

"Wait," Bagman said, reaching out to Harry. "You're a Hit Wizard, would you happen to know where I could find Alastor Gumboil? I looked for him in his office, but he wasn't there. He's an old friend of my father's, you see, I need to speak with him about a boggart problem."

"He will be back in his office tomorrow." Harry said distractedly as he and Viktor continued off in their direction. Alastor Gumboil had immediately taken over for Pius Thicknesse after the man had been found to be Imperiused and locked away in a holding cell; Gumboil was an aged, legendary Hit Wizard, comparable to what Mad-Eye Moody was to the Aurors. A fact that didn't go unnoticed to the general public was that both men had the same first name, which initiated a string of parents naming their children Alastor back during the first war against Voldemort.

"Thanks." Ludo Bagman muttered, walking away towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Viktor and Harry stayed silent for a few moments, stopping again a minute after they left Bagman. "Are you vorried about dueling Voldemort?" Viktor questioned as they each bought some candy from a cart that was outside of an animal store that Harry had never been in before. He knew that it would be Harry that would be fighting against Voldemort, and though he would never say it out loud, he was scared that his friend wasn't talented enough to win against such a formidable opponent.

"Honestly?" Harry said, popping a piece of wizarding chocolate into his mouth. "A little, but I will have help. Dumbledore's taught me enough, but I will need a lot of luck."

"Dumbledore vas more powerful than Voldemort," Viktor responded, his eyes drifting around Diagon Alley as they walked towards Cedric's office. "I'm sure you vill do vell."

"He wasn't necessarily more powerful." Harry corrected, knowing that there were powers that Voldemort had that Dumbledore could never have—part of it was Dumbledore's ethics and morals, but the other part was Voldemort's incredible talent. "If Dumbledore and Voldemort were the same age…I think Voldemort would be second to Dumbledore not because he's weaker or not as smart, but because Voldemort chooses to ignore the things he doesn't understand: love, magical races such as house elves, and friendship. Those are all powerful magicks. So while someone might say that Voldemort's knowledge of magic was more extensive than anyone in the world, it's really not: there's a large chunk of magic that Voldemort completely ignored. When it comes to the Dark Arts, however, he certainly is the most knowledgeable, that I cannot disagree with."

Viktor stayed silent, not really knowing what to say in response. Luckily, they arrived at their destination before the silence became awkward, saving him from a conversation he wasn't prepared for. Viktor opened the door to Cedric's office, allowing Harry entrance before he took his steps in. "Harry, Mr. Krum." Terrence Higgs said, giving them both a small smile; he was wearing elegant silver robes, apparently having just come from the Ministry.

"Terrence." Harry replied, nodding his head to the man. Cedric walked out from his office in the back of the shop a moment later, and with a few quick goodbyes, they all left. "I figured we could eat while we work."

"That's fine with me." Cedric replied, looking over to Viktor. "What say you, Vikky?"

Viktor rolled his eyes, and after getting instructions from Harry to apparate to the gates of his home, he did just that, disappearing from Diagon Alley with a pop. Cedric and Harry followed closely behind him, and when Harry arrived to open the gates, they walked into Harry's property, shoulder to shoulder. "We just need to get one more ingredient." Harry said, directing them all over to the wooden stairs that would lead them down to the ocean below the cliffs. When they were close enough to touch the water, Harry flicked his wand and summoned a large jug, and then dipped it into the freezing seawater, filling it up to the brim.

Shivering slightly because of the cold, the trio walked back up the stairs and towards Harry's house, the wind ominously picking up as they neared the door. Once they were in the warmth of the house, they walked up the stairway and into Harry's library, and Harry pulled on a book to open the secret workshop behind the bookshelf. On the oak table, there was a giant stone cauldron, potion ingredients all around, and a book propped open to the necessary page that was over on the side. Harry threw his bag of potion ingredients down onto the table, poured the jug of seawater inside the cauldron, and took a seat on the stool in front of the bench; Viktor and Cedric each took a stool on each side of Harry, as well.

"So what exactly are we doing?" Cedric asked, cocking a questioning eyebrow. Harry had told them to come by, but he refused to tell them what it was that they were there for.

"Making a potion that will destroy some very important objects to Voldemort, things that he created to try and secure his immortality." Harry answered, knowing that neither really knew about Horcruxes.

Cedric furrowed his brows, trying to understand what Harry meant. "So by destroying them, we are destroying Voldemort?"

"No, he'll still be alive; he'll just be able to die then." Harry answered, dumping the ash of the fiendfyre into the cauldron, starting the process of Voldemort's ultimate destruction.

Three hours later, Viktor and Cedric having left just minutes before, found Harry out in his back yard, digging a hole in the ground through the snow, ice, and cold dirt. He didn't use his magic, wanting the satisfaction of beating Voldemort through personal effort, rather than wizardry powers—he thought it would be extra insulting to Voldemort if he knew he was defeated by muggle labor and not the magic he so loved. The stone cauldron, filled with a dull brown liquid was sitting in the snow next to him, was almost complete: the potion called for the wizard or witch to bury it underground for one whole night in order to be brewed properly. When the hole was made, which was only four feet deep, he levitated the heavy cauldron and placed it gently on the bottom, before capping it with a stone cover, preventing it from being tarnished by outside forces.

"Are you done for the day?" Tonks asked as Harry reentered the house, her hair a lively orange.

"Yes," Harry said, stifling a yawn. After turning off all of the lights in the house, the pair walked up into their room, both falling asleep the second their heads hit the pillow.

Harry woke up the next morning around ten, made himself a quick breakfast, and then went out back, hoping that his potion was how it should be if it was brewed correctly. Using his wand to levitate the cauldron out of the ground, he smiled as he popped the cover off, happy that it had turned the silver color that it needed to be in order to work. He levitated the cauldron behind him as he walked back into the house, stomping his feet on hardwood to get the snow off of his shoes—there was about an inch of snow on the ground, having fallen two days before that.

He placed the cauldron down onto his workshop table, using his wand to heat the contents up to a boil and then added a bowl of crushed poison ivy leaves. The potion smoked slightly, and then Harry stirred it, bending over and smelling it: it smelt awful. He waved his wand over it one last time, locking in the potion's heat before turning and leaving, knowing that it would be another six hours until the potion was finally complete.

Harry exited the room, closed the bookshelf, and pulled on another book; with a great lurch, the bookshelf popped back open, revealing a small chamber, lined with countless of large tomes, books that he didn't feel comfortable having other people see. He grabbed a book with a purple binding and immediately exited, opening up his workshop once again—he did not go in, however, instead he sat on one of the couches in the library, getting comfortable as he opened up his book. The book had spells that he hoped would help him defeat the Dark Lord in a duel, something that he doubted he would actually be able to accomplish.

Harry had been hiding a secret ever since he left Hogwarts, one that not many people knew about: he wasn't a very good dueler. It was part of the reason he decided to become a Hit Wizard, rather than an Auror. Sure, he had the knowledge and power to be good, but when he was dueling, all his mind could think about was staying alive, rather than fighting an offensive battle. That wasn't to say that he was afraid of dying, because he wasn't, it was just that he knew that walking away from the fight was more important than actually winning the duel. He thought back to the time in the Department of Mysteries when he was fighting Crouch and Quirrell, inwardly disappointed in himself that he had had such a hard time with the two wizards. Sure, they were powerful wizards, the best that Voldemort had, but they shouldn't have given him such a difficult time. After all, Albus Dumbledore wouldn't have had such a time with those two; instead he would have just taken care of them with a single flick of the wand. When it came down to it, in order to defeat Voldemort he knew that he would need two things to happen: great timing and a lot of luck.

He had come to the realization sometime ago that he was only up against Voldemort because he had things in his life that no one else had. It wasn't power that forced him and Voldemort to be enemies, but destiny: if it wasn't for Sirius being his godfather, he would have never found Slytherin's locket; if it wasn't for being the husband of Nymphadora, he would have never found Ravenclaw's diadem; if it wasn't for Bill Weasley being in the Order, he would have never known about Tom Riddle's Gringotts' vault—all these things were fateful, having nothing to do with his ability to wield a wand or harness his innate magic. Sure, he was undeniably a phenomenal wizard, he knew that, but he wasn't this great hero that everyone thought of him as. He wasn't perfect, either; he had a lot of flaws, including being quick to anger, being overprotective of those around him, and even, in his heart of hearts, somewhat agreeing with the Death Eaters' feelings that wizards and witches were better than muggles. Of course, what set him apart from the dark wizards was the fact that he would never act upon those feelings, and instead he tried to fight them, knowing that they were wrong and hurtful.

So there he sat, flipping the pages of the purple book, reading each page closely. He sat there for a few hours, Zeali bringing his lunch to him, continually reading, trying to become a better wizard in the hopes of defeating the Dark Lord. He wasn't ready for a final duel, he knew that, but he would try, and with a little hard work, he would hopefully prepare himself as best as he could. It wasn't until six o'clock came around that he stopped reading and the guests that he had invited over to witness the destruction of the Horcruxes were about to arrive.

With a yawn, he rose to his feet and entered his workshop, flailing his nostrils to take a big whiff of the potion's noxious scent. "It's finished," He said, popping one of the bubbles of the potion with his wand. The potion itself bubbled consistently, like a mud pool would at a muggle spa. He heard a noise coming from the doorway and he looked over to it, cocking an eyebrow, wondering if it was Tonks or his guests. "Kingsley!" Harry smiled, seeing his friend walking into the room along with Sirius and Remus; they all had a bottle of butterbeer in their hands, and were talking amongst themselves. "I'm glad you could make it." He whispered as the image from his dream of Kingsley's dead body popped into his mind.

"Hey Harry." Kingsley replied, not noticing the look in Harry's eyes. "Yeah, I said I needed sometime to myself so I had Proudfoot take over my duties for a few days."

"What is it that you're actually doing?" Remus questioned, knowing that Kingsley's mission was a secret to most people, including nearly everyone in the Order.

"I'm stationed as the assistant to the Muggle Prime Minister, preventing Voldemort's forces from attacking him." Kingsley answered, honestly, trusting both Sirius and Remus with the information.

"So you said you needed time to yourself but yet you use that time to be with people?" Sirius laughed, enjoying what he thought was irony in Shacklebolt's story.

"Funny," Kingsley rolled his eyes in jest as they all walked into Harry's hidden workshop behind the bookcase—it was the only room that his friends knew about.

"Here you go, Harry." Remus said, handing the younger wizard a butterbeer that he had in his other hand. His eyes moved down to the bubbling cauldron that was stationed on the wooden workbench; its contents were of a brilliant silver liquid that had the consistency of a rich stew. The smell of fish emanated from the cauldron, but it wasn't so overpowering that it made them nauseous. In fact, if one wasn't concentrating, one wouldn't even notice the smell. "Is it ready?" Remus questioned, knowing that the potion was the reason why they were all there.

Harry had invited them over that night to catch up and, more importantly, to witness the destruction of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes. He wanted to make sure that if anything went wrong, there would be others who would be able to carry on the deeds. Plus, he reasoned to himself when he had invited all three over, it would be a nice time to catch up and spend sometime with his older friends, whom he cared about just as much as his Hogwarts friends. He looked past the three men and saw Tonks come into the library and take a seat on one of the couches, waving her petite hand to Harry's guests before she began reading one of her witch gossip magazines.

"Almost," Harry whispered, taking his wand and giving the potion one final stir. A large bubble popped up from the bottom of the stone cauldron, and Harry leaned over and flared his nostrils for a smell, using his hands to whiff the aroma into his face. "It should be ready now."

"What is that?" Sirius questioned abruptly, seeing another three simmering cauldrons in the back of the workshop; they were much smaller and made of brass.

"One is a strengthening potion, one is a cauldron of potential Condicto Cocktails, and the last one is a potion that you are exclusively familiar with." Harry replied, cocking an eyebrow towards Sirius.

Sirius furrowed his brows, giving his godson a confused look. Then, after a moment's thought, he said, "That's the potion you gave me after I escaped from Azkaban? I thought you didn't know how you made it."

Harry laughed, shrugging his shoulders slightly, remembering that time before Voldemort's second rise—it was peaceful and happy. "The Pensieve doesn't lie. I know how powerful it is; I wanted it to be around so we can try to heal people after a battle against the forces of Voldemort. Hopefully, we'll be able to save someone."

"Well, at least Snape won't have to make it on the spur of the moment." Remus murmured, referencing how Snape needed to make a Condicto Cocktail for Harry after being cursed by Gringotts. "But shouldn't we be getting back to the Horcruxes?"

"Right," Harry looked over to his friends, giving them all a small smile as excitement bellied inside of him. This was it, this was what his work for the last two months had led him to: being able to destroy the Horcruxes, while keeping the history that they represented alive. In a manner of speaking, to Harry it felt like eating the cake and having it, too. He noticed in the corner of his eye that Tonks was also watching him interestedly, a nervous look on her face, as if she didn't exactly trust that what he was doing was a hundred percent safe. "Here goes." He said, reaching for Hufflepuff's cup with his left hand.

Gently, he ran a hand over the fine gold, wondering if it would be destroyed in the potion. It burned hot as he held it, somehow sensing its destruction was near, but Harry was not pained by the heat. Without saying another word, he dunked the goblet down into the potion, resting it at the bottom of the cauldron. He grabbed his wand, looked down at the open book that was next to the cauldron, and muttered, "Dehorcruxia" as he ran his wand over the potion. There was a wicked wailing sound that came from nowhere, the piece of soul inside of the cauldron seemingly being burned by the magic of the potion. It bubbled up tremendously, as if it was boiling, and stayed bubbling for nearly three minutes, before it ended suddenly. "Is it done?" Sirius questioned, somewhat anxiously.

"I think so." Harry said, using his wand and summoning the goblet out of the cauldron with a quick muttering of "accio." The goblet flew out of the potion and into Harry's hands, covered in the grey liquid, though not as much as Harry had expected.

"Did it work?" Kingsley questioned, looking from the potion to the goblet and then back to the potion again.

Harry studied the cup with his wand, poking at it and muttering unintelligibly, while the others waited for him to answer. "It worked," He said, slowly, his face showing his credulousness. "It worked even better than I had expected." He gulped down the ball of excitement that was in his throat, his eyes roaming all over the exquisite artifact. "I was worried that the potion would not only strip the Horcrux magic but also the magic that the goblet has inherently, the magic that Helga Hufflepuff charmed into it. That's why I added the 'dehorcruxia' after putting the goblet in the potion, hoping that the potion would only destroy the Horcrux magic."

"So…" Kingsley said in a hushed tone. "Voldemort's Horcruxes will be destroyed?"

"Oh yes," Harry said, giddily, as the happiness of being successful in his endeavor overcoming him—he was able to prevent the Dark Lord from destroying the world's history, his history. Not forgetting his purpose, he reached down to Tom Riddle's diary, picked it up, and dunked it into the potion. "Good bye, Tom Riddle."

Like before, the piece of soul inside of the journal let out a wailing sound as it was being destroyed. The noise was almost intolerable, forcing Harry and the rest to cover their ears with their hands. This time, the potion bubble more violently, before spilling onto the workbench and dissolving into nothing right away. As suddenly as the wailing and the bubbling started, they both ended abruptly, the potion returning to the original calm that it was before Harry had put the journal in it.

He flicked his wand and summoned the journal out, cleaning it off with a swipe of his wand and then tossing it over to the side, having felt that the Horcrux magic was destroyed. Then, gently, he picked up Tonks' silver tiara, or rather Ravenclaw's diadem, and just as gently as he picked it up, he placed it at the bottom of the cauldron, his skin burning slightly due to the potion. _If it's burning me like that, _he thought to himself_, I'd hate to see what it would do to a person who didn't make it_. "Dehorcruxia," He said again as he waved his wand over the potion, wanting to protect the magic that Rowena Ravenclaw had infused into the diadem.

He pulled his arm out just as the wailing sound rang out again, and not even a second later, the bubbling started. It lasted the same length of time as the others, but wasn't nearly as violent as the journal had been; instead, it looked like a child was blowing bubbles into the potion through a straw like it was chocolate milk, not boiling. Like the others before it, the diadem was stripped of the piece of soul inside when the bubbling stopped, destroying another of Voldemort's anchors to this world. He summoned the tiara from the cauldron, wiped off all of the excess potion, and placed it gently down onto the workbench, next to the other vanquished Horcruxes: the Peverell Ring, the Slytherin Locket, the Hufflepuff Goblet, and the Riddle Journal.

"So is that it? Are all of his Horcruxes destroyed?" Kingsley questioned Harry, giving the younger wizard an inquiring look.

"No," Harry shook his head. "I believe there's one more. I've already taken the steps I needed to, to assure that the last Horcrux is destroyed. He knows what he has to do and when he has to do it."

"What steps were those?" Sirius asked, wondering what it was that someone would need to do.

"Kylie." Harry said simply, not elaborating any further than that. He didn't want it to get out at all, regardless of the fact that he trusted the three in the room with his life. "So you guys never found the Chamber of Secrets in your Hogwarts excursions, right?"

"We found many secret chambers, but none that held beast or monster of Slytherin." Remus replied, seeing that Harry wouldn't continue the conversation about Kylie.

Sirius laughed, elbowing Remus in the ribs lightly. "The only beast they held was Moony on the nights of a full moon."

Remus sighed, but the small smile that was playing at his lips betrayed his seeming exasperation. "Why do you ask?"

"Because this potion," Harry gestured to the cauldron. "Originally needed basilisk venom, and it was Dumbledore's belief that the monster hidden inside of the chamber was a basilisk. It would make sense after all, Slytherin was a parselmouth and what is more dangerous to a person that a parselmouth-controlled basilisk? Plus," Harry reasoned further. "During my second year, your first year teaching Remus, when the Chamber of Secrets was supposedly opened, all of Hogwarts' roosters were killed. And what's deadly to a basilisk? It's the crow of a rooster."

"How did Dumbledore think the Chamber of Secrets opened?" Sirius asked, having never heard the story before. Remus had told him once that the school was threatened his first year by a monster and that Snape had tried to talk the other professors into thinking it was Remus, but he hadn't heard the whole story.

Harry shrugged, having no answer for that question. "No idea. All Dumbledore told me was that after Filch found this journal," He picked up Tom Riddle's journal and tossed it over to Sirius. "No more attacks ever happened. Did he tell the professors more, Remus?"

"No," Remus shook his head. "We didn't know anything at all. We were all just worried about protecting the students, rather than solving the riddle of the Chamber."

"…the riddle of the Chamber?" Harry rolled his eyes in amusement. One thing he did know about the Chamber of Secrets, however, was that Dumbledore believed that Tom Riddle was the cause of the first opening of the Chamber of Secrets, not Rubeus Hagrid like so many others thought. "Clever pun."

"What?" Remus questioned back, raising an eyebrow. His question was answered when Sirius showed him the name that was written in gold cursive on the cover of the journal, Tom Riddle. "Oh, right."

"What do we have to do now?" Kingsley asked Harry, though it was more of a question to the group than to Harry directly. "I mean, you know, the Order."

"We wait, I guess." Harry said, walking past the trio and into the library. He instinctively reached up to his forehead right then, where his scar pricked in pain for the first time in a long while. He didn't know why, but for a fleeting moment, it gave him pain, something that confused him since his mental shields were up and he hadn't felt any attempted intrusions into his mind. He closed his green eyes for a second, trying to keep his concentration over the headache that was starting to form behind his eyes. "Kylie said Voldemort will make his move on Hogwarts soon. It's all he has left, now that his most influential sleeper agent in the Ministry has been found. If he were to get Hogwarts, it would only be a matter of time until the Ministry falls."

"He would sure be able to do a lot of damage with Hogwarts." Sirius muttered, his mind going over the ramifications of Voldemort taking over the ancient wizarding school. He would have a millennium worth of knowledge in his grasp, thousands upon thousands of magical tomes, and countless of hidden artifacts. Plus, he would also have the protection that Hogwarts would afford him, such as the incredible wards that surrounded the property, the dangerous forbidden forest that prevented any intruders, and the various secret and unplottable chambers within the school, where he could hide if any force was ever able to breach the defenses of Hogwarts. If Voldemort were to get Hogwarts, he'd be nearly untouchable since it was the safest place in Great Britain, perhaps even the safest place in the world.

AN: The dream sequence at the beginning of this chapter was actually the original ending of the story. I changed the plot midway through, however, but I loved the scene, so I posted it as a dream, albeit taking out a lot of the details so it seemed more "dream-like." Though, that's not to say that the dream wasn't a foreshadowing.

AN: I'm still waiting on suggestions of what you guys want me to do: write a sequel to this story, write a prequel, write a story with another "strange" pairing for Harry (time travel would have to be involved for the older woman, because I refuse to have a teenage Harry be with a 30 something woman), or an entirely different story. Let me know.


	37. Preparation on the Fronts

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: There should be either three or four more chapters after this one, so we're definitely nearing the end.

S/N 2: It's Barron, not a misspelling of the noble title Baron. As you will see, I'm tying up and finishing a lot of the subplots, so you might want to take a look at chapter 11, chapter 27 (where Harry blurted the name 'Herald' out), and chapter 29.

Chapter 37: Preparation on the Fronts

A brown rat ran atop of the white snow on the grounds of Hogwarts, his small head bobbing up and down as he moved towards his destination. As the rat neared the white marble tomb of Albus Dumbledore, it transformed with a pop into a short, rat-looking human, who then continued to trudge through the snow: it was early in the morning so the moon was just setting—everyone was still asleep in the castle that hovered across the lake. After reaching the tomb, he stood at the bottom of it, his wand held lightly in his right hand as he stared at the stone, wondering what magic he would need in order to crack it open. He flicked his wand while muttering an incantation and with a great lurch, the top of the tomb moved from its place, allowing the wizard access to the body protected inside.

Peter Pettigrew looked down at Albus Dumbledore's lifeless body, moving the shroud that covered the corpse off of his face and torso. Dumbledore's arms were rested gently across his chest, his fingers entangled with a holly wand: his wand. Seeing his prize, Pettigrew grabbed the wand out of the dead wizard's hands and immediately closed the tomb back up, moving quickly and stealthily so that no one could see him. He transformed back into a rat with another pop and entered the Forbidden Forest, knowing that Lord Voldemort would be calling for him soon.

The Death Eaters started to arrive in the throne room just minutes after their Dark Marks burned on their forearms. Those who were staying in the manor above, the ones who were freed from the shackles of Azkaban, all walked down the stairs into the dungeon basement, while those who were living off of the premises apparated in with a loud crack. They all had their black hoods up and their varying masks on, with about half wearing the bone masks of the older generation and the other half wearing the metal masks of the younger, newer Death Eaters. They all stood in a large circle, silently waiting for the Dark Lord to speak; he was lazily leaning in his throne, his snake Nagini curled comfortably around his neck.

"Ah, Peter Pettigrew," Voldemort said brightly, as a shorter Death Eater took a step forward. "I hope you were successful in the endeavor that I forced you to undertake."

"I was, master." Pettigrew bowed, and then reached into his robes and pulled out Dumbledore's wand that he had procured an hour before. "I have this for you."

Voldemort bent down and took the wand into his chalk-like hands, and almost immediately, his own wand that was in his robes started to vibrate, reacting to its brother. Soon enough, Dumbledore's wand began to shake, as well, making the Dark Lord scowl in fury. "This is not the Elder Wand, Pettigrew! This is Dumbledore's normal wand, the wand that I and Harry Potter connected with during our encounter in the Ministry. It is a useless relic of a pitiful dead man!"

"What?" Pettigrew chirped, as his eyes widened in both fear and confusion. "No, my master, that was the only wand in Dumbledore's tomb, I promise! Please, have mercy." He begged, knowing that his punishment was coming. He didn't appreciate the idea of being punished for this since, after all, no one else in the Death Eater's fold would have been able to even reach Dumbledore's tomb, let alone come back with the great wizard's wand.

"You failed Lord Voldemort, Pettigrew!" Voldemort scathed, throwing Dumbledore's wand onto the ground in anger, where it rolled off into the corner, hidden by shadows. "I do not take failure lightly!" He looked down at the rat, who was kissing his robes, begging for mercy, and he gave out a hollow laugh. "I will find the Elder Wand, still."

Just then, Quirinus Quirrell, Walden Macnair, and Fenrir Greyback all walked into the room, and when they took their places within the ranks, the circle was finally complete—that is, of course, accepting the fact that five of their numbers would be unable to ever return. Those five included Thorfin Rowle, whom was brutally electrocuted by Rabastan Lestrange and was still in St. Mungo's criminal ward as a result, still unable to string together a sentence. Both Scabior and Zacharias Smith, meanwhile, had been killed at the raid of Lilyre Moon's house a month and a half prior; Smith died by the Killing Curse and Scabior died by bleeding out on the grass after the Death Eaters left him behind in their retreat. Selwyn had been captured early on during the war and was now locked down in the deepest parts of Azkaban, unable to be freed by Voldemort, though the Dark Lord never really tried. And finally, there was Augustus Rookwood, who had been a big blow to Voldemort's ranks when he was found dead outside of his old home.

"Ah, my Death Eaters are all here." Voldemort smirked, allowing Pettigrew to take his place and escape his punishment. "I suppose," He started slowly, taking his yew wand out of his robes and fondling it tenderly, as if it was a lover. "That you are wondering why I called you all so early in the morn. Well, Lord Voldemort is happy to say that the time has come for us to take Hogwarts."

Murmurs erupted throughout the ranks, and Voldemort took a second to gather his thoughts, allowing the Death Eaters a brief moment of excitement. In his spot in the circle, Severus Snape's stomach turned upon the Dark Lord's proclamation, as his mind drifted off to the dangers that would come if Voldemort were to get the wizarding school. Under his skull mask, his black eyes roamed over to Kylie, who seemed to have taken the news much better than he had as the wizard had barely reacted, though he did have his head down in contemplation. That didn't last long, however, as the man next to Kylie, his father, had just elbowed him in the ribs, forcing Kylie to look towards the Dark Lord—though Snape could tell his mind wasn't there, as if he was still thinking about some great mystery.

"It will happen soon, my Death Eaters, my true family." Voldemort's voice carried off of the stone walls, creating an echo effect that made the Death Eaters even more scared than usual. "Within this week, I say. The next time I summon you will be the day, but before that time, make sure to continue the assignments that Lord Voldemort has handed out to you. I am trusting you, Pettigrew, to lead Macnair and his dark creatures, Quirrell and his trolls, and Greyback and his werewolves through the Forbidden Forest, make sure I do not regret that decision."

"I understand, my lord." Pettigrew murmured, bowing his head deeply in fear and respect. He had escaped punishment once already that meeting; he would not put himself in a position to be punished again.

"Crouch, continue what you have been doing." Voldemort ordered, his red gaze moving over to where Barty Crouch, Jr., stood. "You have been doing well so far, do not change course now."

Crouch nodded his head and said, "I will, master. Cornfoot," He moved his gaze over to another Death Eater across the circle. "I will need more potions soon."

"There is another batch brewing as we speak." Stephen Cornfoot answered, taking a step forward and nodding his head. Snape, meanwhile, cocked an eyebrow at that, wondering just what kind of potion Cornfoot was brewing for them. Cornfoot had been a very good student as a Ravenclaw in Hogwarts, Snape knew, but if they needed a potion, why didn't they go to him for it?

"Mulciber, I assume you have been wrangling up as many Imperiused witches and wizards that you can?" Voldemort questioned, reaching down and petting Nagini's scaly head.

"Yes, my lord." A Death Eater near Kylie spoke, a gleeful sound to his voice. Bellatrix Lestrange cursed under her breath as she watched Mulciber answer, furious that she had lost her spot within the ranks of the Death Eaters.

"Good." The Dark Lord smirked, his red eyes burning in anticipation. "You may leave; I have work I have to do." Voldemort finished, and then immediately disapparated out with a crack. His loyal companion Nagini slithered out of the room once her master was gone, presumably to find food to eat.

Nearly all of the Death Eaters followed suit, with only a few soliciting behind, which included Severus Snape. Snape made conversation with a Death Eater wearing a silver mask for nearly ten minutes and when that Death Eater finally apparated away, Snape was left alone in the stone chamber. He quietly walked over to the corner where Dumbledore's wand rolled off into, and with his wand tip alit in silver light, he searched for his dear friend's discarded wand. He found it against the wall and picked it up, placing it safely in his pocket and then disapparated out of the room, intent on putting the wand back in Dumbledore's tomb as soon as he could.

Meanwhile, Rabastan Lestrange walked up to his room above the basement right after the meeting concluded. He took off his robes and his mask, and tossed them onto a rocking chair that was on the other side of the room. Then, he turned his attention to the mirror that was hanging above his dresser, specifically to the picture that was taped onto the glass. The picture was of a sixteen year old Rabastan and his future wife, Solange when they were in Beauxbatons; the pair was brewing a potion together before it blew up in their faces, resulting in a white powdery substance being thrown all over them. They both looked at each other and laughed, before engulfing each other in a loving embrace.

"Solange," Rabastan whispered, touching the picture with his right index finger. He reached into the top drawer and pulled out a small, wooden jewelry box, and then opened the lid and pulled out a bronze key. He grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment from his desk, and began to scrawl a note to his son.

When he was done, he wrapped the piece of parchment around the key, and then tied a piece of twine around it, preventing the key from falling out. He then walked over to his black robes that were still hanging off of the chair and tucked the wrapped key into the pocket, knowing that he would need to get it to his son as soon as he could. With a sigh, he fell onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering when he would be called to do Voldemort's bidding.

Latter that day, an emergency Order of the Phoenix meeting was called by Harry. He and Tonks walked down into the basement of 12 Grimmauld Place together; many of the Order members were having lighthearted conversations amongst each other. Harry took a seat in his chair at the head of the table nearest to the stairwell, while Tonks took her seat in the middle of the table next to Gaetana, who was talking quietly to Cedric. Sirius and Kingsley were both tending to the fire on the other side of the room, laughing every so often about something that they were talking about. Harry was happy that Sirius had found a friend in Kingsley, having great respect and love for both of the men—especially Sirius, with whom he couldn't help but feel sad about when thinking about all of the time they had missed together. Mundungus Fletcher sat at the other end of the table, smoking his corncob pipe as he counted his gold galleons that were placed down in front of him. Meanwhile, Fred and George were playing pranks on their brothers, Charlie and Bill, using many of the gag items that they had created over the years.

"Who's watching over the store if you're both here?" Wayne Hopkins questioned, having not seen both George and Fred in the same place in a long time. One of them usually stayed at the store, while the other came to the Order meetings, so having them both at the meeting was quite rare. "Ron and Ginny?"

"Verity Burbage." Fred replied with a slight blush to his cheeks. "She's been working with us since we've opened; she's a big part of what we do." Verity was a nice girl with short blonde hair that had attended Hogwarts during the same time that George and Fred did. She was the daughter of Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts, who had taken over the position when Quirinus Quirrell went off to travel all those years ago, before he was Death Eater.

"Fred wants to marry her!" Bill teased, pitching his voice up to a grade schooler's. He knew that Fred had a crush on Verity, though he didn't know how serious he was about her.

"How mature, William." George said to his older brother with a tisk of faux disappointment, shaking his head negatively—though the smile that was playing on his lips betrayed his seeming displeasure.

"I guess it wasn't Aberforth Dumbledore who dueled You-Know-Who, eh?" Despereaux Barnaud whispered to Neville, gesturing to the older man who had just taken a seat across from Mundungus Fletcher. He had overheard Harry welcome Aberforth, but before then, he would have never known who the man was since he had never attended an Order meeting since Despereaux had joined the Order. Aberforth growled at Fletcher, who continued to smoke his pipe in ignorance, either not knowing or not caring that Aberforth disliked him.

Harry sat quietly with his head in his hands for fifteen more minutes as every member of the Order came in, including the members who did not usually attend, such as Hagrid, Elphias Doge, and Minerva McGonagall. His face was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot, though he hid it well. His scar was throbbing in pain, and had been ever since the previous night after he destroyed the Horcruxes of Voldemort. "Are you all right, Harry?" Hestia Jones questioned, seeing how the younger wizard looked.

"I'm fine, just tired is all." He grinned back at her, seeing that many other people were staring at him strangely, as well. Then, upon seeing that everyone was seated and ready, he smiled at them all, meeting their gaze with his green, bloodshot eyes. "Hello everybody," Harry said, his voice calm and cheerful. "As you can see, all of our members have joined us today. The reason for this is simple; perhaps, Severus or Kylie can better explain?" He looked over to the two Death Eater spies, who sat across from one another in the center of the table.

They looked at each other, and after a short silence, Snape opened his mouth, his voice low. "The Dark Lord will try to take Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the coming days." When Snape finished, there were audible gasps coming from many of the members, each surprised that Voldemort would be attacking the school so soon.

"When will this happen?" Elphias Doge questioned; the wizard looked much older than he did at his close friend, Albus Dumbledore's funeral. His remaining close friend, Dedalus Diggle nodded next to him, wanting to know the information as well, knowing that keeping Hogwarts was Dumbledore's main concern while he was alive.

"We don't know yet." Kylie answered, his voice and demeanor much more pleasant than Snape's was. "He said that it's happening whenever we are summoned next."

"And that is why we are all here." Harry interjected, rising to his feet to pace behind his chair. "We will need a way for the Order to be notified of the attack, since it will happen quickly and on a spur of the moment. Voldemort," He paused when people gasped at the name. "Is obviously hiding the timing of the attack for a reason."

"Quirrell, Crouch, and Peter Pettigrew are the only ones who know, it seems." Kylie opined, looking over to Harry from under his shadowy cloak.

"Pettigrew?" Sirius snapped, rolling his eyes in disgust at the mention of Wormtail's name. He knew that the pair would have their reckoning soon, he just didn't know how much longer he could wait: he would have his vengeance.

"You can listen, wow, how surprising." Snape drawled, as his dislike of Sirius appeared on his sallow face.

"Not the time." Remus muttered to Sirius, preventing the wizard from responding to Snape's comment. There were more important things to discuss, rather than petty childhood rivalries that should have been left in the past.

"Right," Harry continued, seemingly not noticing the exchange between Snape and Sirius. "We'll need to be notified right away when Voldemort decides to attack, but how?"

"It'll need to be fast, we would have a lot of work to do to secure the school's safety." Hermione added, knowing that as a teacher, her main concern was for the students' safety.

"We would need to make sure the students are protected." Headmistress McGonagall stated, unknowingly mimicking Hermione's thoughts from just a moment before.

"That's exactly right." Harry nodded in agreement, knowing that those poor children didn't deserve to be left for dead. "Not only does it need to be fast, but it also needs to be discreet. We cannot, nay I will not, risk the lives of you two; the warning needs to be something that you can keep hidden, a secret." He said, looking over to Snape and Kylie.

"We will do what we must, Harry." Kylie said, more than willing to sacrifice his life if it meant that his wife and friends would be able to live in a world without the tyranny of Lord Voldemort.

"What about a Patronus message?" Lilyre Moon suggested, raising a curious eyebrow. While he had knowledge about the patronus message, he had never used it in his life and had only seen it used once before so he didn't know if it would be possible for Kylie or Snape to use.

"That's no good," Wayne Hopkins, Lilyre's best friend replied, shaking his head. "You-Know-Who would surely see them send it."

"He's right." Neville Longbottom responded with a nod, frowning slightly in thought. While he might not have known who Kylie actually was and he might have had his differences with Snape in the past, he didn't want to see either one die. After all, he knew that if the Order was to win the war against Voldemort, the spies would have played a large part in it.

"We can always use your charm, Harry." Kylie said, trying to offer up some suggestions to Harry.

"What charm?" Many of the members asked, curiously.

"It's a charm that, when someone writes something on a piece of paper, allows what was written to show up on another piece that has been charmed or vice versa. It connects two things as a sort of mirror image of each other." Harry answered, distractedly, trying to think of a way to communicate.

"Sort of like the Protean Charm." Hermione mentioned, noting the similarities between two spells. If she had to wager a guess, she'd say that Harry had gotten the idea for the charm from the Protean Charm and just made small changes to it in the creation of his charm—that was how many of the new spells, charms, and curses came about.

"The Protean Charm?" Harry asked in a strange tone, his gaze firmly placed on the wall that was on the other side of the room.

"You remember what the Protean Charm is, don't you, Harry? We studied it in our sixth year." Terry Boot inquired, wondering how Harry could forget such a powerful and memorable charm. He knew that Harry had studied it since they were in the same sixth year Charm class as Ravenclaws.

"I don't think that's what he meant." Tonks replied, knowing the look that was in her husband's eyes. She had witnessed it many times over their years together, whenever he would get an idea—he was toying with it in his mind, solving the problem that was plaguing his thoughts.

"Aye?" Mundungus Fletcher murmured, apparently awakening form his pipe induced stupor.

The thought of Mundungus counting his money suddenly flashed into Harry's mind, bringing with it an idea that Harry hoped to flesh out. "Galleons." Harry muttered again, this time to the confusion and frustration of many of the Order members. They began to talk quietly amongst themselves, the main conversation having stalled for a brief moment, until Harry smiled and turned his attention back to the group. "I got it." He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a knut, two galleons, and five sickles, plus some lint and a muggle rubber band. He placed them all on the table, earning looks of questioning from the others.

"What's that for?" Sturgis Podmore inquired, raising an eyebrow as he moved forward in his seat to get a better look at Harry.

"Everyone, take out whatever's in your pocket, except the things that are personal to you." Harry ordered with a look mischief on his face, a look that reminded Remus and Sirius so much of James.

They all did what they were told. Many of them had at least a few sickles on them, a few of them more than a single galleon on them, as well as other eclectic items, such as quills, pocket watches, crumpled up pieces of parchment, and discarded wrappers of candy. Many members looked at Mundungus with disgust as the wizard pulled out what seemed to be a handful of garbage; muggle tobacco was mixed in with used tissues, already chewed gum, and interestingly enough, a rabbit's foot.

"Does everyone have a sickle on them?" Harry questioned, knowing that the silver coin was the most common form of currency that people carried: it wasn't as cheap as a knut, nor as expensive as a galleon. "Everyone, send them down to me, I have an idea." Seeing many skeptical faces, he sighed. "I will reimburse you all, do not worry."

They all sent down a sickle, and for the few people who didn't have one, Harry waved it off and added all of his to the collective. When he had enough for every Order member to have one, he put all of the sickles into a pile on the table in front of him, with the exception of two, which he separated from the rest. "The Death Eater's Dark Mark that is placed upon them is a corrupted version of the Protean Charm that was created by Voldemort." Harry recited, taking his wand out from his robes, preparing himself to charm the sickles. "While I disagree with Voldemort's twisting of it, the Protean Charm can be especially powerful when it's used in its proper form. Like I mentioned, I also have another version of the Protean Charm that I call it the Appearian Charm; really, the only difference is the fact that in my charm, the information disappears off of each copy and reappears on the other charmed object—making them both able to send and receive information."

He twisted his wand and ran it over the entire mound of coins, whispering "Proteus Mercurie," all the while. The coins all glowed white for a second, before they dimmed down and returned to their natural state. He picked up one of the coins and touched the tip of his wand down onto another that was separated from the pile. Just as he expected, the coin in his hand burned white hot. "Perfect. These coins will notify us of when Voldemort is attacking Hogwarts; when they burn, it's when the attack is going to come."

"What happens if we lose them?" Neville Longbottom asked, somewhat embarrassedly. He remembered when his grandmother sent him a Remembrall during his first year at Hogwarts to help him with his memory—it didn't work, as he would always forget what he had forgotten in the first place when the ball would turn red to signify that he had forgotten something.

"Don't." Harry answered, simply, not having any other answer. He ran his wand over the pile of coins again, transfiguring their normal appearance slightly: the coins now had the head of a stag on one side. Harry hoped that the slight variation would prevent any of the members from using the coins to purchase something like a normal sickle. "And to finish it off," He whispered, touching the two coins that were separated from the rest with his wand tip—he changed them into the master copies, the only ones that could update the coins. He didn't want the regular coins to be used if they were found by anyone else; he wanted to protect the Order as best as he could. He grabbed the two master copies and said, "Everyone except Severus and Kylie take one."

Sirius and Cedric, who were both sitting opposite each other, took half of the coins each and passed them down their respective sides of the table. Meanwhile, Harry walked over to Kylie and handed him his master copy, and then slid the other across to Snape. "All you have to do is touch your wand to the coin and it'll alert the others." He said in a low voice, and then louder added, "The coins will continue to burn until you touch your wand to them to acknowledge that you got the message. Keep it on you at all times."

"What's with the stag?" Gaetana Robards asked, running a hand over the emblem.

"It's to differentiate our coin from a real one. Plus," He smiled to the group. "It's my Patronus." _And my father's animagus form_, he thought to himself with a laugh.

Broderick Bode took his coin and put it into his right pants pocket, and then passed the pile to Sturgis Podmore, who was sitting next to him. "So what do we do when the coins heat up and we get the message?" The Unspeakable asked, wondering what Harry had in mind.

"Good question," Harry pondered, biting his lip. "How about we all come here? I'll have a portkey ready so we can just grab it and go as quickly as possible." He looked down the table, seeing McGonagall. "I would imagine the Hogwarts Professors that we have in our midst will just stay at Hogwarts. Also, I will need the Hogwarts password for the portkey, Minerva, whenever you get the chance."

"No problem, Harry." McGonagall nodded, willing to hand over Hogwarts' most guarded secret to Harry, someone that she trusted with the safety of the school above all others.

"I will be going straight to Hogwarts, as well." Aberforth Dumbledore muttered, turning his hatred-filled gaze from Mundungus to Harry.

Harry agreed with a nod of his head, but stayed silent. Just then, Andromeda Tonks came walking down the stairs, and Harry turned his attention over to her, giving his mother-in-law a smile. Andromeda had an older-looking muggle camera hanging around her neck as she took her spot next to Harry. "I know we should have done this sooner, but we need to take a picture of the Order." Harry mentioned, wanting to remember the brave faces of all those who opposed Lord Voldemort and his dark servants. He walked over to the open space behind the table, gesturing for everyone to gather around.

They all did as they were told, with Hagrid standing right behind Harry, as he towered over everyone with his half-giant size. Remus, Sirius, and Shacklebolt stood on one end, while Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Broderick Bode, and Sturgis Podmore stood on the other. Tonks, Gaetana, and Hermione stood on the right side of Harry, with Cedric and Viktor on the other. In between Viktor and Remus stood the four Weasleys, Lilyre Moon, Wayne Hopkins, Neville Longbottom, and Despereaux Barnaud. Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance stood next to Hermione, with Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Kylie filling out the space between Vance and Dedalus Diggle. Finally, Mudungus Fletcher and Aberforth stood in the back row next to Hagrid, each filling out a spot between the heads of people in the front row.

"Is everyone ready?" Andromeda questioned, looking at the group through the camera.

"Wait!" Gaetana said, as she looked over to the corner of the room, where Dobby had just apparated in, holding a pitcher of pumpkin juice. She smiled at the house-elf, and said, "Dobby come here, you deserve to be in this picture just as much as us."

"I does, miss Robards?" Dobby questioned, his tennis ball-like eyes filling with tears.

"Of course, Dobby, you've done so much for us." Harry agreed, disappointed that he completely forgot about the small elf. "Come here, right in front of me." Harry gestured, watching as the elf levitated the pitcher onto the table and bustled over to Harry.

"Can Dobby be apart of the great wizards and witches of the Phoenix, master Sirius, sir?" Dobby questioned, pausing for a second as he looked over to Sirius.

"Dobby, you don't have to ask that." Sirius grinned, shaking his head. No matter how many times Sirius told the little elf that he was his own person and that he wasn't a slave, the elf still questioned whether he could do something or not. He laughed when Dobby took his spot in front of Harry, but wasn't tall enough to even reach up to Harry's thigh.

"Here we go, say quaffle." Andromeda said, bringing her finger down on the camera's button.

"Quaffle!" Nearly all the members of the Order said, happily, as the flash went off, capturing their faces for the rest of time.

Harry laughed when George groaned that he had closed his eyes when the flash went off, and when he begged to take another picture, everyone denied him. "Well, I guess…I guess that's it until the coins heat up. If another raid happens between now and that time, I'll notify you, but I don't think the Dark Lord will risk losing his Death Eaters." Harry said, knowing that it was all coming to an end soon, whether for good or bad.

Laughter came from many of the Order members as George still moaned in sadness, who then began to head towards the stairs to leave after Harry's proclamation. Minerva McGonagall walked up to Harry and patted him on the shoulder, earning his attention. "Potter, I trust you know how to create a portkey into Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, meeting McGonagall's gaze. "Albus taught me; he just never gave me the password, though I'm sure you have changed it since you've taken the Headmistress post."

"I have," McGonagall replied; then, getting on her tiptoes, she whispered into his ear, "The password is Earwax Bean."

"Thank you." Harry grinned, noticing that Sirius was done rounding up the people that Harry had wanted to see after the meeting. He stood a few feet away, politely waiting his turn to talk to Harry. "How is Herald doing?" He questioned the older witch, referencing her nephew, Herald McGonagall.

"He's doing as well as he can, given the situation that he is in over there." McGonagall answered honestly. "I take it that you have heard about his injury?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, frowning slightly. "I floo called him after Albus' death, asking him if he could come help, and he relayed to me what was going on. He also flooed me before Christmas to wish me a happy holiday, and we spoke about his injuries. Brutal, brutal stuff is happening over there." McGonagall agreed, and then she bid him goodbye and left up the stairs, while Harry turned his attention to the Order members that Sirius asked to stay.

The eight members sat back down at the table; they included Sirius, Cedric, Hermione, Kylie, Remus, Snape, Kingsley, and of course, Harry himself. Tonks had gone upstairs with her mother to speak with her father, and while Harry had told her she could come back down when she was done, she declined. "I imagine that this will be, no matter if we win or lose, the last Order of the Phoenix meeting. Its all coming to an end, we all realize that, and if we do not win the battle for Hogwarts, I fear it is all over for our cause for a long time."

"And why is no one else here?" Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow as she gazed around at the empty seats.

"Because this is a very special meeting, one that will shed light on what we all must do. I view you all as the most trusted and powerful of all the members, and I count on you all to do so much, perhaps too much." He stopped and looked at each of them in the eyes, except for Kylie, whose face was still masked by the shadows created by his hood. "We all know that a fight between Voldemort and I is coming soon; we can't keep dodging each other forever. However, there are things that I need done before then: Kylie, I presume you remember how I told you before that the snake Nagini must die. Severus, I'm pretty sure you knew about this from Dumbledore, correct?" They both nodded their heads slowly, silently asking for Harry to continue. "When Voldemort attacks, that is when the snake needs to die: no sooner, no later."

Snape nodded, while Kylie voiced a question, wanting to make sure he had all the information he needed. "How should we kill the snake? It's a Horcrux, is it not? Will a Killing Curse work?"

"That's what I'm here to discuss." Harry admitted in an even tone, having anticipated such a question. "If I understand correctly from reading Dumbledore's notes that he left me, dark magic tomes about Horcruxes, and my own personal knowledge, I believe that you need to kill her and then dismember the body. You see, there are two souls inside: Voldemort's own, which makes her seem smarter than other snakes, and the snake's essence itself. If you kill her with the Killing Curse, that will only kill one soul; you need to destroy the body in order to destroy the Horcrux. The Venom Strike Curse should work, you know, 'Velehieb'. If not, use the Fiendfyre Curse as a last resort."

"You have to sort of hook your wand before you poke it at the object for the Venom Strike Curse to work, don't you?" Kylie questioned again, having only a working knowledge of the curse.

"Yes," Harry agreed, nodding his head slightly.

"It sounds easy enough." Kylie replied, inwardly not as confident as he wanted to show on his exterior. While it was true that he was scared of dying, he was more scared of failing, which was something that he knew the Order of the Phoenix and Harry could not afford.

"As for the Malfoys, Severus, you have taken care of things, correct?" Harry inquired, looking over to the potions master.

"They have just recently moved out of my house and into the Spungen's estate in the Scottish highlands." Snape replied, having watched them pack up and leave Spinner's End just days before.

"The Spungens, you mean as in the Spungen twins that are dating Wayne Hopkins and Lilyre Moon?" Cedric asked, remembering the two girls that attended Roger's funeral. He also knew how much Lilyre Moon hated Draco Malfoy—they had almost gotten into a fist fight when Draco was at Grimmauld Place.

"Lucius Malfoy's mother is Tanaquil Spungen, the matriarch of the family." Kylie answered, knowing that the Spungen line was an ancient line and the Malfoys would be well protected at their estate.

"Very well, I promised Draco their safety and I was just making sure every thing was in order." Harry said, pausing as he gathered his thoughts. "And…if I should perish against Voldemort," Harry began somberly after the moment of silence, as the others looked on, startled by the topic of conversation. "Cedric shall take over the leadership of the Order of the Phoenix, with Sirius continuing his role as second in command. I have made the proper arrangements to make sure you all receive the information that you need, knowledge that was passed down from Dumbledore to me, and will then be passed down onto all of you should that be necessary."

"If…if that's what you want, Harry." Cedric murmured, hoping that it would never come to that. He couldn't bear the thought of losing another friend, especially not his best friend Harry. If he lost Harry, he didn't know how he would react, but he could guess that it would be eerily similar to the way Sirius reacted after James' death.

"It is." Harry ordered, and then turned his attention back to Kylie and Snape, remembering another task he needed them to perform in addition to killing Nagini. "I need you two to also get the captives of Voldemort out, as well. I fear that if they're still there when the Death Eaters begin to retreat should Voldemort fall, the Death Eaters will kill them. I know I'm asking a lot from you, but it needs to be done—Florean Fortescue, Ollivander, and whoever else they have locked away do not deserve to be left to rot and die."

"I will make sure it is done without alerting suspicion should the Order fail to destroy Voldemort before he takes Hogwarts." Snape said, throwing an insult Kylie's way. He doubted Kylie would be clever enough to prevent Voldemort from learning about the pair freeing his prisoners, instead believing himself the far superior intellect.

"Why did Voldemort take Fortescue? Ollivander I can understand, he needed the man to make wands for the Azkaban escapees, but what could Fortescue possibly offer?" Remus questioned the group, wondering what Fortescue's importance was.

"Even we question that." Kylie answered with a sigh, having discussed it with Snape once before. "Rosier told me that the Dark Lord used to pay Fortescue's home a visit nearly every day, but when Dumbledore died, it abruptly ended. I didn't know about it until a few weeks ago, so I don't know if it is true or not."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at that piece of information. That seemed strange to him, Voldemort randomly visiting Fortescue's house; what was there that was important enough for Voldemort to travel there personally? "Interesting," Harry muttered, wondering just what it was that Voldemort was doing with Fortescue.

"If you have nothing else to say, Potter," Snape started, rising to his feet; his greasy black hair curtaining his sallow face. "I must be getting back to Hogwarts as I have something to take care of." He said, unintentionally and unknowingly patting his cloak's pocket, which hid Dumbledore's wand that he had gathered from the Death Eater meeting earlier in the day.

"Right," Harry nodded, watching as the bat-like teacher walked up the stairs with his bellowing black robes. He remembered the days when he used to hate Snape, back when he was in his early years at Hogwarts; it wasn't until Harry was in Snape's NEWT class did the man start to see that he wasn't his father, that his eyes weren't there to haunt him like he had thought when Harry first arrived at Hogwarts. Now, Harry couldn't help but accept who and what Snape was, and appreciate him for all the help he gave Harry in both potions and in the fight against Voldemort.

"I'll be sure to send the message via the coin as soon as I can." Kylie said, as he wrapped his cloak around his body, knowing that it would be cold outside as he walked towards Diagon Alley. He liked walking rather than apparating sometimes, living without magic was refreshing; it made him appreciate everything that he had in life. Remus and Hermione left to Hogwarts right after, while Kingsley left to go back to his Auror duties, leaving Harry and Sirius alone at the table.

"You're staying for lunch, aren't you?" Sirius asked, looking over to his godson.

"Yes," Harry answered, moving to a seat across from Sirius, not wanting to sit at the head of the table for the meal. He poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice from the jug that was in the center of the table, nestled next to ten empty glasses. He hoped that the cold drink would cool his headache and fever, which he knew was from the pain that his scar was inflicting upon him.

Meanwhile, he noticed that for the first time in a long, long time, no one from the Order other than those who were close to Sirius was at Grimmauld Place for lunch—it was very, very rare that the members of the Order who worked at the Ministry didn't stop by for the meal. Harry couldn't help but think it was because people were afraid that they were going to die, and presumably, wanted to spend time with their families or significant others. "I have summoned the Tonks', mister Sirius, sir." Dobby bowed, appearing next to the older wizard. "Lunch will be ready in a few moments."

"Thank you, Dobby." Sirius said to his house elf with a smile, as he too poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

Just then, the door at the top of the stairs opened and down walked Andromeda and Ted Tonks, followed by Nymphadora, and then Emmeline Vance. Both Harry and Sirius smiled at the foursome, gesturing for them to take seats around them; Emmeline sat next to Sirius, while Andromeda, Ted, and Nymphadora all sat next to Harry. "Hi Harry." Ted said, patting the younger wizard on the back in affection.

"Hi," Harry replied, giving his father-in-law a large smile. He rubbed his scar once more as a ping of pain ran through it, making his vision blurry for a brief moment. He was distracted from the pain during the meeting, but now that the rush of concentration needed in order to make sure that he said everything he needed to was gone, the pain had resumed ten fold.

Dobby flicked his fingers, and plates appeared in front of everyone. With another flick of his fingers, a large bowl of lamb and lentil stew appeared on each of the plates, with a basket full of cheddar biscuits placed in the middle of the table for all to enjoy. "Thank you, Dobby." Emmeline said, taking in the mouth watering scent of the biscuits with a flare of her nostrils.

"It's delicious as always, Dobby." Sirius said, taking the first spoonful of stew into his mouth. Dobby smiled, bowed, and apparated away, allowing the wizards and witches to enjoy his hard work. "Harry, when you were talking about your friend Herald, what were you talking about exactly?"

"You mean when I said brutal, brutal stuff?" Sirius nodded and grabbed a biscuit. "Well, I called for him to come and help here, but he was busy fighting the forces of his own evil wizard." Sirius cocked an eyebrow, motioning for Harry to continue. "He's fighting a rogue alchemist and his acolytes. Apparently, the alchemist thinks the secret to the Philosopher's Stone is in the souls of wizarding folk, so people are being taking all of the time."

"Where is this?" Emmeline asked, having never heard about it. She was pretty up to date on worldly affairs, having lived in Scotland as a child, attended Freyjavangr for her schooling in Norway, and Denmark during her holidays as a teen. She moved to England with her parents just under twenty years ago, when she herself was twenty years old.

"Australia." Harry answered, taking a scoop of stew into his mouth. "I don't know the whole story; I don't really talk to him anymore."

"How did you meet him in the first place?" Sirius inquired, trying to remember if Harry had ever mentioned anything about Herald before. He knew the name from somewhere, he just couldn't place it.

Harry tipped the salt shaker over his stew and gave it a few good thrusts, before placing it back down onto the table. "When I traveled the world after I turned of age, McGonagall suggested that I go and see him, knowing that he could teach me a thing or two."

"So he's good?" Emmeline asked, just trying to make conversation with Harry. Over the time that Sirius and her had gotten close, she learned that if she really wanted to be with Sirius, she would need to love Harry because he was the most important person in Sirius' life.

"He's a very capable wizard, yes." Harry agreed, knowing that Herald was a very talented wizard like his aunt Minerva, being nearly equal to a Sirius or a Snape in terms of smarts and skills.

"Is he as good as you?" Sirius smiled, not realizing that he was putting Harry on a pedestal that perhaps his godson didn't necessarily like.

"He's not that good." Nymphadora answered for Harry, smiling at her husband. Harry gave her a smile in return, but one could see that it didn't quite reach his soul. It was one of those times that made Harry uncomfortable: when people insinuated that he was a better wizard than what he actually was.

Emmeline smiled at what Nymphadora said, admiring the love that the pair shared, and then asked, "How old is he?"

Harry shrugged, not really knowing—everyone was acting like Herald was his best friend, when in fact he was just an associate who Harry respected immensely. "I think he went to Hogwarts either right before or right after Sirius did."

"That's a fourteen year difference." Andromeda laughed, which seemed to be infectious as it made the rest laugh as well.

They went silent for a while after that, all of them enjoying their stew. Before long, Dobby had made the plates and bowls disappear with a snap of his fingers and with another snap, dessert was served. It was a simple bowl of pudding with chocolate sprinkles, but with Dobby's cooking skills, it made for a delicious treat.

"I have something to show you that I think you'll be interested in, Harry." Sirius mentioned, motioning for his godson to follow him upstairs. They walked up to the main floor, and then up to the second floor, stopping on the landing for a brief moment. "I found a book in my library, one that could answer the questions we had about your family tree at Christmas." Sirius informed Harry, opening up the library doors and walking over to the wooden table on the other side of the room that had a large book placed down in the middle. "It's called _Ancient Genealogies: A Wizard's Guide to Marriage_, I didn't see it before because it was tucked away behind some other books. Apparently, my ancestors used to use it to pick out who was worthy of marriage and who wasn't."

"Yeah," Harry said, his green eyes flicking down to the torn and dirtied paper. He rubbed his scar with his right hand, the pain from the cursed lightning bolt patch of skin becoming nearly too much for him to handle. It seemed to be getting worse, he noted, with each passing minute bringing more and more pain, though he continued to try and hide it.

Sirius flipped to the middle of the book, and then turned it towards Harry, pointing down to the opened page. "You were right: all three Peverells did have children; each had at least one daughter, with Ignotus having three." Harry nodded, reading the faded writing, though it was hard to decipher the text due to the age of the book. "Antioch, the oldest brother, had only one daughter, who married a wizard named William Lancaster, and the line continued until the 1600's when it became the Dumbledore line."

"Aberforth's the only one left from that entire line." Harry said, turning the page and seeing that the chapter was all about the Peverells. His eyes struggled to bring the print in focus due to the pain from his scar, but after closing and opening his eyes back up, he managed to read the text.

"Ignotus, the youngest brother, had three daughters but the middle daughter Perpetua was the only one to have children of her own." Sirius said, not noticing Harry's pain. "She married Bowman Wright, and bore your ancestor Dryope Wright, who then married Janus Potter. The Potter line is obviously still around; unlike the other lines, the Potters would often fall out of the pureblood ranks by infusing more muggleborns or half bloods into the family, keeping the family sane and wealthy. That's why your family has been one of the more successful ones—that and the fact that the Potters have a knack of only having one child, a son to carry on the name."

"How did you find this out?" Harry asked, amazed by the information, albeit not as much as he would have been if his scar wasn't throbbing like it was.

"I'm not done yet," Sirius smiled, knowing that what he was about to say would interest Harry even more. "The middle brother, Cadmus, well his only daughter Avice, married a wizard who's last name was Sampford, his first name being unknown. Now, that line and name continued until Maud Sampford married Barron Hess in 1526, which ended the Sampford male line. She bore Barron a single son, Mafold Hess, who then went on to marry his only cousin, Medea Hess, starting the family bloodline which would eventually drive the family into poverty and insanity. The Hess name died in 1713, when Matilda Hess married a rich member of the ancient Gaunt family and had a son, Mafold Gaunt, who was named after his ancestor—Mafold Gaunt was Voldemort's five times great (great, great, great, great, great) grandfather. Incidentally, that was the last and only time the family had an infusion of non-familiar blood into their line."

"Where's the Slytherin family in all of this?" Harry questioned, his brows furrowed in thought.

"Hess." Sirius answered simply. "Before he married Maud, he came from out of nowhere, his name not appearing in any history book, yet the Sampford's allowed him into their bloodline? Something's not right there, unless he had something that proved his heritage, something that would make them overlook his rather limited notoriety."

"Slytherin's locket." Harry nodded with a dawning look on his face. "They probably didn't care if he was pureblooded or not, they just wanted to be able to link their name to the Slytherin line."

"Exactly." Sirius replied in agreement, and then pointed to a line of text next to Barron Hess' name that he found intriguing. Harry looked down at it and cocked an eyebrow, surprised by what it said. It read: Barron Hess, who came from a fen. Sirius nodded when he saw Harry's eyes light up, knowing that coming from a fen was what Salazar Slytherin was known for: the epithet was clearly meant to show in a subtle way that Hess hailed from Slytherin's line. "Apparently, he went to Freyjavangr and moved to Great Britain, married Maud, but died before his son was born."

"Freyjavangr?" Harry asked with a sigh, shaking his head in bemusement. "Merlin, before you escaped from Azkaban, I had only heard about that place once before, but now? Now I hear it all the time, first with the Nigels, then with Emmeline, and just two days ago I saw a book about the history of the school in the trunk that Dumbledore gave me. Its like fate is trying to tell me something."

Sirius gave Harry a questioning glance, wondering what his godson had meant by that. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean," Harry sighed again, though this was more in pain, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "That it's a big coincidence that I keep hearing about this school, but before recently, I had only heard it in passing from Dumbledore, who was meeting with its Headmistress during my sixth year."

"Or maybe you're just more attuned to hearing it now that you consciously know about it?" Sirius suggested, trying to help Harry out.

"No, it's more than that." Harry shook his head in the negative, knowing that there was something deeper to it. "It's like that Chariot of Light thing; it has to be more than that."

Sirius looked down at the book, not really knowing where Harry was going with this. "Like what?" He asked after a few more seconds of silence.

"I have no idea." Harry answered, and then his face took on a pensive look, as if he was hit with an idea. "Wait a minute, Hess from Freyjavangr? He married his wife in 1526? He was related to Slytherin? He came to Great Britain?" Harry rambled, gaining a train of thought that seemed much too familiar. "When did you say that the Chariot of Light fought their Dark Lord?"

"They fought in the 1500s." Sirius answered slowly, wondering if he was thinking the same thing Harry was. "It couldn't be, could it?"

They were both figuring out that the Dark Lord that the Chariot of Light, the precursor to the Order of the Phoenix fought was none other than Lord Voldemort's ancestor. In their minds, he had come to Great Britain for the sole purpose of taking Hogwarts, which he thought was his rightful property, having been an heir of Slytherin. The Chariot managed to defeat him, somehow, someway, though neither really understood what had happened in any depth. _Could_ _that be why Dumbledore left me that Chariot of Light reference_, Harry thought to himself as they began to walk back down to the basement. _Is that why I've been hearing about Freyjavangr and the Chariot of Light so much? _

"Where did you guys go?" Ted Tonks questioned, reading the Daily Prophet as he drank a cup of tea.

"Just upstairs." Sirius smiled as they retook their seats.

"Emmeline, you went to Freyjavanjr, correct?" Harry asked the blonde haired witch, raising a questioning eyebrow. He remembered her stating with pride that her family had been around since the creation of the Norse school after Bellatrix had accused her of being a mudblood that night when Voldemort infiltrated the Ministry to steal the prophecy.

"Yes, I did, why?" She replied, wondering what Harry wanted to know that for.

The younger wizard looked at Emmeline with his green gaze and then asked, "Who created the school?"

"I don't know." Emmeline admitted with a shrug, an apologetic look on her face. "It's a bit shady, it's not like Hogwarts with Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff; there's just a legend that says it was started by an old man and his son."

Harry bit his lip, wondering himself where he was going with this. "No name at all?"

"No." Emmeline shook her head, frowning in disappointment that she couldn't answer Harry's question.

Nymphadora, meanwhile, got to her feet and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. "I should be getting home; I need to get things ready."

"Oh, right, that's today, isn't?" Andromeda questioned her daughter, referencing the get-together that Tonks was having for Lisa and her friends.

"It originally wasn't, but with, well, you know, everything happening with the You-Know-Who and Hogwarts, I wanted to make sure that we all got together, just in case." Tonks replied, having moved the small party up a few days in anticipation of the attack on Hogwarts. "You should come, mom."

"Understandable. As for me coming, well, I'll be there, hunny." Andromeda replied with a smile, and after saying their goodbyes, she watched as her daughter and her son-in-law walked up the stairs and out of the house.

Three hours after Tonks and Harry left Grimmauld Place found Lord Voldemort sitting in a large, stone chair, with a book opened on his lap and Nagini on his shoulders. He flipped through the pages of a biography of Gellert Grindelwald, trying to find some place where the wizard could have lost the Elder Wand. His visit to Gregorovitch days prior had been successful; he had found out that a young Grindelwald had stolen the wand from the wandmaker back in the early twentieth century. As he continued to flip the pages, he came upon a picture of Grindelwald that was taken in 1945, right before his duel with Dumbledore—Grindelwald's hood was down, allowing Voldemort to see his face for the first time.

The Dark Lord's eyes went wide when he realized who Grindelwald was, what his face actually looked like. "He was the old man!" He screamed out, unbridled rage filling his body. He rose from his chair and marched out of the room and down the stone hallways until he reached the dungeon chamber. He walked past the two sets of metal armor that stood on opposite sides of the doorway, opened the door, and entered the small, dark, stone chamber.

The four prisoners coiled back in fear, their hands protecting their eyes from the light that shined in through the doorway. They all tried not to meet Voldemort's eyes, knowing that if they did, they would be tortured until their eyes couldn't stay opened anymore. Voldemort looked down at the miserable foursome, his gaze pausing on an old man with a mane of wild gray hair. "Where is Grindelwald, Ollivander?" Voldemort hissed, dangerously, as he towered over the older wandmaker.

The old man's silver gaze moved down to the floor, a look of defeat entering his eyes. "I don't….I don't know!" He moaned, too tired to answer in a stronger tone.

"Where is he? He challenged me; Lord Voldemort has seen him in the country with his own eyes!" Voldemort spat, his eyes wide with such anger that Ollivander did not think he'd survive if he disappointed the Dark Lord.

"I don't know where he could be, please, I'm telling the truth." Ollivander begged, hoping the Dark Lord would spare him.

"Bagshot." A gaunt man with thinning auburn hair croaked from the corner, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were deep in their sockets, and he looked as if he had been punched in each eye. "When he last came here, he lived in the Bagshot house in Godric's Hollow."

"You better hope he's there, Fortescue." Voldemort sneered, and then turned on his heels and walked out of the dark room, slamming the door behind him.

"What have we done?" Ollivander questioned the three other prisoners, who all stayed silent, too weak to think about it.

Harry Potter sat in his library couch, reading the purple dark arts spell book that he had began reading a few days prior. He had learned about a few new curses and hexes that he didn't know about, which he hoped to use in his battle against Voldemort when the time came. Unfortunately, however, his learning was slowed due to his scar; his head, specifically right behind his scar, was pounding in pain, forcing him to take a break from looking at the small print of the book. Just as he closed his eyes, his headache overcoming him, he at once realized that he was not in his own body.

He was in Voldemort's mind; he was walking up a familiar pathway to a small house in Godric's Hollow. He surprisingly knocked on the door, fondling his yew wand in his right hand, his black hood masking his true appearance. An old woman answered the door, saying, "Yes?"

Before she could react, a flash of green erupted from the Dark Lord's wand, killing the woman instantly; her dead corpse fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. An old man came out from the back room, his brown eyes looking down at his aunt with a tinge of sadness in them, knowing that he was at fault for her death. "Voldemort," Gellert Grindelwald nodded, his gaze flicking over to the coffee table in the center of the room—his wand was lying underneath of it, where he left it before he went to make dinner.

"The Elder Wand, Grindelwald." Voldemort hissed, stepping over Bathilda Bagshot's body disrespectfully and entering the house.

"I don't have it, it doesn't exist." Grindelwald muttered in response as he inched closer to the table, hoping that he would be able to lunge for his wand and protect himself.

"You lie!" Voldemort screamed, blasting the table with a curse, which immediately disintegrated in a shower of wood chips. "Lord Voldemort knows! Lord Voldemort always knows!"

"I don't have it." Grindelwald repeated, now just a foot away from his wand that had been seemingly untouched by the curse. He knew that Voldemort knew what he was doing and would probably stop him, but he was still going to try and get his wand, to try and defend himself. "That doesn't mean I never had it, I did, but I snapped it. It's destroyed, gone, lost to the world."

"Lord Voldemort's patience with you Grindelwald is running low; now tell me where the wand is!" Voldemort sneered, looking at the former Dark Lord with his crimson red gaze. "Or else I will force the truth out of you."

"I am telling you the truth." Grindelwald replied, a calmness to his voice that not many would have if in the same situation. He wasn't afraid of death, nor did he fear the Dark Lord and he would not pretend that he did. "I snapped it before I began my duel with Dumbledore in 1945, that's why I lost and was beaten."

"Give me the wand and I will not destroy you. Tell me the truth!" Voldemort yelled, grabbing Grindelwald's face with his spidery fingers and forcing Grindelwald to make eye contact with him.

_Voldemort, and by proxy Harry, saw images of Gellert's life, then he saw the moments right before Dumbledore dueled him. "I will not fight you with this cursed wand, friend." Grindelwald called out to Dumbledore, and then with a quick flinching of his fist, the wand cracked in half as if it was a measly stick. "And after I defeat you, I will not need the wand any more, either."_

Voldemort pulled out of Grindelwald's mind after seeing the memory, apparently taking what he saw as fact, believing people incapable of lying to him. "You will die for that." He sneered in disdain, angry that the Wand of Destiny would not be his.

"Kill me, then. Voldemort, I welcome death! I do not fear it, but my demise will not bring you what you seek. I do not fear death." Gellert laughed, mocking Voldemort's unbridled hatred for death and his fear of dying. He goaded the Dark Lord, knowing that if Voldemort were to learn the truth about the Elder Wand, Dumbledore's tomb would be desecrated and he would be nearly impossible to stop. "There is so much you do not understand, so much you do not know"

"Then you are a fool." Voldemort hissed, affronted at the fact that Grindelwald was staring death right in the face but yet he did not move to prevent it. _Weakling_, Voldemort thought to himself with a sneer.

"I'll be seeing you soon, Voldemort, when Harry defeats you." Grindelwald grinned as he watched Voldemort flick his wand and a jet of green light rushed towards him. _Good luck, Potter_, he thought as his life was extinguished and he fell to the ground, dead.

Voldemort looked down at Grindelwald's body with disgust before turning and walking towards the door. The tip of his wand glowed a bright orange, and he gestured with it towards the drapes that were covering the windows and they immediately exploded into flames. He walked out of the house as it began to burn, and when he reached the street, he gave one last look at the house before disapparating away.

Harry was jolted back into his own body with a gasp. He quickly grabbed his wand, ran out of his house and past the wards, and apparated to Godric's Hollow, which was on the other side of the mountain. He appeared in front of the Bagshot house and immediately rushed inside, extinguishing as many of the flames as he could as soon as he arrived; the entire window was destroyed, completely charred by the fire. While flames still licked at the window, they were not spreading to the rest of the house just yet, so he turned his attention to getting the bodies out of the home.

"Potter, you must take him!" A portrait yelled from the corner of the room, trying to get Harry's attention. Harry looked over to where he heard the voice, recognizing it as the former Headmaster Bagshot, the man that had given Grindelwald information ever since his arrival in Great Britain. "The Aurors will arrive soon, and if they find his body, chaos will ensue. There are people within the Ministry who will make him into something that he wasn't."

"What about Bathilda?" Harry asked, looking over to the older woman on the floor near the entrance. He knew that the Headmaster was right, that if people found Grindelwald's body, the wizarding world would lose confidence in the Ministry's ability to protect them and Voldemort would gain power as a result. He couldn't allow that to happen, even if he had to break some of his beliefs and morals to prevent it.

"Leave her. She will be buried in the family plot, while Gellert will not be." He replied sorrowfully, knowing it was just a few minutes until the Ministry Officials would start to arrive. He watched as Harry bent down and put a hand on Gellert's unmoving chest, preparing himself for departure. "Take my portrait, as well."

"What?" Harry questioned, taken aback by the portrait's request.

"I am more help to you than I am to anyone else." He admitted, looking over Harry's shoulder to make sure no one was coming into the home. "The only Bagshots that are left, the ones who will inherit this house, are people I don't know and have never met. I can help you; I can speak to Dumbledore's portrait just like Phineas Nigellus Black can. I can watch over Hogwarts and report to you when it is in danger." The Headmaster pleaded to Harry, wanting nothing more than to help the Order vanquish the Dark Lord, the monster that killed his daughter and his great grandson Gellert.

"I…I…" Harry started to speak, clearly confused by all that was happening—his head was still hurting him, too. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." The man smiled, as if he was reciting an already planned out script. Harry nodded and swished his wand over the frame, shrinking it down to where it was small enough to fit into his pocket. He then unhooked it from the wall, placed it in his pocket, and bent down to grab Gellert's body. He created a portkey using a shard of wood from the exploded table and immediately activated it, disappearing with a pull at his naval in an instant.

Meanwhile, just as Ministry Officials began to arrive, Hannah Abbot and the entire Roper family came out of their houses to watch the commotion, each wondering just what had happened. It was eerily reminiscent of the night when Voldemort was first destroyed, the night when Lily and James Potter were murdered and young Harry overcame the Dark Lord. Broderick Bode came out of his house down the street and walked up to the group of neighbors, his eyes drifting over to the front door of the Bagshot house, where Bathilda's body was still sprawled on the ground.

"Do you know what happened, Broderick?" Sophie Roper asked, questioning her neighbor. She was a petite witch, thin and short, with light red hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and light freckles on her button nose. She was a close friend of Neville Longbottom's, and many believed that they would one day end up married, though she didn't know if that was something he wanted.

"No," Broderick shook his head, knowing that whatever had happened wasn't good. He was worried for Bathilda and his other neighbor that lived in the house, whom he knew as a retiree named Gregory.

Harry arrived in Harry's backyard, around a hundred feet away from the house, a few seconds after leaving the Bagshot house. He levitated Gellert's body off of the ground and then walked towards the tree line, knowing that there was an open place in the forest where he could bury the ex-Dark Wizard. "What have I gotten myself into?" Harry asked himself, questioning whether he was doing the right thing. "He did help me." He said, inwardly fighting over what to do. He didn't know if this was right, but he didn't think he had any other choice and his headache wasn't helping the matter, either.

He came to the clearing in the forest: it was only about ten feet in diameter and was nearly fifty feet from the end of his open property. He used his wand to melt the snow that was on the ground, creating a seven foot-by-four foot wide dry spot on the ground. Then, using his wand, he created a hole with the same dimensions, going about six feet deep into the earth. The dirt accumulated onto the snow next to the hole, which Harry would replace once the body was in the grave. Harry took off his blue robe and laid it on top of Grindelwald's body, making sure that the wizard's form was completely covered and protected from the elements. He then levitated the body into the grave, giving a frown all the while. "I'm sorry I can't do better." He whispered, taking a moment of silence for the wizard. "You helped me, you helped the Order, and you may have just helped the world. I hope you found peace with yourself before the end."

He reached down and took a handful of dirt into his right hand, and then gently dropped the dirt onto the body in the grave, trying to honor the fallen wizard. He used his magic to fill in the rest, and after standing over the fresh dirt in silence for a minute or two, he walked over to the tree that stood across from the grave with the intention of creating a grave marker. He stared at the bark for a second, thinking about what to write exactly, and after lighting his wand tip, he burned a headstone into the bark.

_G.G._

_1883-2003_

Underneath that, he drew the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, which was a straight line with a circle on top of the line, both of which were enclosed in a triangle. He loathed drawing it, knowing that so many people had died under the sign when Grindelwald was in power during the 1940s. Still, he did it as a tribute, and then stood back, admiring his handy-work. "Ironic, your death today was truly and honestly for the greater good. You made Voldemort think the Elder Wand was destroyed, and now when I fight him, he won't understand that I have the wand, giving me a greater chance of destroying him."

Harry bowed his head one last time, and then turned around and walked out of the forest, heading towards the backdoor of his house. Trudging through the snow, he rubbed his arms in an effort to keep warm as the wind began to pick up, which sent the loose snow up into the air. He reached the door, turned the bronze knob and let himself in, stomping his feet on the wood to get all of the snow off of his shoes and pants. He heard voices coming from the sitting room, and quietly made his way over, knowing that it was Tonks and her girlfriends.

"Hello everybody," Harry said, his eyes meeting Lisa Davies, Roger's wife. "Lisa." He smiled, trying to show her that he had no hard feelings for what she had said. Gaetana, Hermione, Andromeda, and four other women that Harry didn't recognize (though he knew he had seen them before) all said hi, while Lisa gave him a small wave in return.

"Harry, can I…can I talk to you?" Lisa said, throwing him a questioning glance.

"If it's about what we talked about the last time I saw you, don't worry about it. I completely understand." Harry replied quickly, wanting to go back to the solitude of his library and rest his head; plus, he also wanted to continue his reading.

"Yeah, it's about that…I wanted to apologize." Lisa said, rising to her feet and coming closer to him.

"No need, like I said, I understand." Harry said, rubbing her arm tenderly. "I care about you, I'm not about to hold a grudge. I just hope that our relationship can grow since I want to be apart of Harmony's life."

"I hope you want to be apart of my son's, too." Lisa grinned, rubbing her stomach; Harry could tell that her happiness didn't quite reach her soul and that she missed Roger greatly. She reached out to him and engulfed him in a hug, not wanting there to be any hard feelings between the pair. After talking to Hermione and Viktor, she had realized how idiotic and misplaced her anger at Harry was: the real culprit in all of this was Voldemort. She knew that Roger wanted to fight for her and their family, and she knew that he would have done that, regardless if he was friends with Harry or not. It wasn't Harry that made him into a brave man; all Harry was doing was trying to protect him as best as he could.

"Congratulations on that." Harry returned, kissing her on the cheek. "But you go have fun; I know Tonks has been looking forward to this for a few days now."

"Right," Lisa nodded, and then returned to her seat, joining the ongoing conversation that the women were having.

Harry entered the kitchen and grabbed himself a few cookies that Zeali had baked, and then walked up the stairs, heading for his library. As he reached the landing, his scar erupted in pain and his mind entered Voldemort's again, as if they were the same person, but yet still different. He fell down to the wooden floor with a thud, his nose taking most of the force, making blood spill out and pool around his face.

"_There is a spell," Voldemort hissed to Nagini as the snake slithered up towards him. "That will help me destroy the wards of Hogwarts even without the Elder Wand. Lord Voldemort knows where to find this spell."_

"Master Harry!" Zeali squealed as his little arms tried to shake Harry awake. Harry's eyes shot open and immediately fell upon Zeali's face, who was staring back at him with concern. "Master Harry, are you okay? Zeali was worried!"

"I'm fine, Zeali." Harry replied, rising to his knees as he used his hand to try and stop the bleeding from his nose.

"Should I go and get mistress Tonks?" The little elf questioned worriedly, looking at his friend and master with his wide, tennis ball-like eyes.

"No, it's okay." Harry muttered, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I could use a wet towel, though." Zeali nodded, and in an instant disapparated away with a pop. Harry rose to his feet and walked into the library, plopping down onto the couch with his eyes closed.

"Here you are, Mister Harry Potter, sir." Zeali said as he appeared in the room; he put the damp towel in Harry's hand. Harry used one side to wipe the blood off of his face, and then flipped it over onto the cleaner side and placed it on his forehead, draping it over his eyes. He sat there for a while, trying to calm the pain that was coming from his scar—it wouldn't die. He reached into his pocket and grabbed one of the cookies he had picked up from the kitchen, munching on it lightly, hoping that the sugar would help relax his head a bit. "Do you need anything, Harry Potter, sir?" He heard Zeali ask from in front of him.

"Yeah, I could use a glass of something cold." Harry replied, taking another bite of the cookie. After Zeali left, Harry heard an uproar of laughter coming from downstairs, and he wildly swung his wand at the doors in reaction. The wooden doors immediately slammed closed, shutting the library off from the noises of the outside. "SHUT UP!" He yelled in an angry voice, staring blankly out of the window that was across the room, trying to remember what Voldemort had said in his vision. He closed his eyes, and immediately, he was back in Voldemort's mind.

"_WHERE IS IT?" Voldemort screamed, knocking all of the books off of a bookshelf that he was standing in front of with a swipe of his hand. His red gaze fell to a book that was sprawled on the floor, and he tilted his skull-like head in wonder, a large, vicious smirk taking its place on his face. _

Harry's eyes shot open as Zeali apparated in and placed a large glass of chocolate milk on the wooden coffee table. "Here you are, Master Harry." The house elf said happily, as he smiled up to his master.

"Thank you, Zeali." Harry murmured, taking a large gulp of milk, his head pounding like two large drums. He didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually he got up and walked out of the library, turning to his right and heading towards his bed room, where he unclothed and jumped into the shower. He closed his eyes as the warm water washed over his back, relaxing his tense muscles.

"_This is it!" Voldemort hissed to his loyal companion, Nagini_. _He was staring down at an ancient, jacket bound parchment, its pages ripped and frayed at the edges. "We attack Hogwarts tomorrow, and trust me, it will be mine!"_

"What is happening to me?" Harry whispered, as he turned the water from warm to cold, hoping that it would sooth his headache. He turned around and leaned against the tiled wall, allowing the water to run down his front side. He stood there for another half an hour, and when he finally turned the water off, his fingers were pruned and his long black hair was sopping wet. He quickly grabbed a green towel that was on the hook and dried himself off, tying it around his waste as he left the bathroom. The steam escaped from the door when he opened it, and his eyes fell upon his beautiful wife, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading a witch gossip magazine. He walked over to her and planted a kiss on her lips, which caught her off guard at first but grew more passionate as they continued to kiss.

"I love you," Tonks said as they both stopped to take a breath, before pulling him onto the bed and continuing to kiss him.

In the middle of the night, Harry rolled over onto his right shoulder, wrapping his arm around Tonks' stomach. _"Soon, Nagini, we will have Hogwarts and the Ministry_!" He hissed in his sleep, startling Tonks awake. She looked down at her husband for a brief moment, wondering if she had heard something or if she was dreaming, but when he was silent for over a minute, she shrugged and returned back to her sleep.

AN: I've decided that I'm going to write an entirely different story after this one. Its title is going to be **Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun**, and it will start a few weeks after the conclusion of the Order of the Phoenix book (meaning it won't be an entire AU.) It will have either Bellatrix Black or Rowena Ravenclaw as the secondary character along with Harry, and will involve time travel. While I have a few chapters of each (the Rowena story and the Bellatrix story) written, I'm still waiting to decide which one I like more. Now, there are no promises that Harry is going to end up with either woman; it's just a matter that either woman is going to be a main character in the story. As for my prequel and sequel ideas, I put a lot of my prequel ideas into this chapter, but I still have an idea for a sequel if Harry survives, so I might also write that.


	38. Heat of the Moment

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Clearly, this is a set up chapter, I hope you like it. As for Barty Crouch, Jr, in this chapter: he's been doing what he's been doing for a long, long time now. He was ordered to breach the Ministry, that's why he's been a very, very busy boy.

S/N 2: I have a lot of subplots to finish, so I think I'm going to have to add an entire chapter to finish it all off, meaning there is about four more chapters left.

Chapter 38: Heat of the Moment

Harry and Tonks both woke up around nine o'clock the next morning, and after taking showers, they both put on their official Ministry robes: white for Aurors and blood red for Hit Wizards. The Ministry robes were a special kind of robe that had inherent protections charmed into them, such as shielding charms and anti-curses that made sure that the person who was wearing them was protected from the lesser dark magical attacks. While it was customary for the Hit Wizards to wear their robes when they were on duty, the white robes of the Aurors were not, and many of the Aurors instead wore their own personal robes to work most days. After the pair enjoyed a brief breakfast of fruit and toast, they flooed over to the Ministry and walked to their respective offices, planning on meeting for lunch later that day.

Harry rubbed his scar as he entered the Hit Wizard lounge—he was the last to arrive as the rest of the Hit Wizards were already present, each doing their own thing. He sat down in a plush chair next to the wizarding wireless, across from another Hit Wizard who gave him a smile. "I hope this isn't too interesting of a day." He said to the other Hit Wizard, who cocked an eyebrow up at him, though he did not elaborate any further.

Harry pulled an eraser and a keychain out of his robe pocket, and then placed them both down onto the coffee table that was in front of his chair. He took his wand, pointed it down at the eraser and said, "Portus," while thinking of the destination that he wanted the portkey to travel to. The eraser glowed blue for a few seconds, before ceasing and returning to its natural state. Immediately, he flicked his wand over to the keychain and repeated the same actions, creating a second portkey. Then, he got up from his chair and walked over to the desk in the corner, grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment and jotted down a note.

_The eraser goes to your home, while the keychain goes to St. Mungo's. I trust you know when to use each one._

_-Harry_

Meanwhile, a group of six people were sitting around the table in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. Kylie and Cedric had arrived just minutes prior, each having come by the house to make sure that the arrangements for the Order were taken care of. Cedric had decided to take the entire week off, wanting to be able to react to the threat against Hogwarts as quickly as he possibly could. "How do you keep your hood on and your face shrouded like that?" Cedric asked, watching as Kylie took a piece of toast and buttered it with his silver knife.

"Magic." The spy answered casually, taking a bite of the toast.

Ted Tonks snorted in laughter at that from behind his paper, having heard that answer many times as a child. Seeing that everyone was staring at him, he sighed with a large smile on his face, and folded the paper and placed it down on the table. He realized that he was the only person with even the faintest of knowledge about muggles, with all of the other occupants of the room being pureblooded and therefore generally unaware of muggle customs. "Muggle children tell people that in sarcasm or when they want to keep the answer a secret. 'Hey, how'd you do that?' Magic, they'd say. It's funny because, well, that's the first time I've ever heard that answer in a serious meaning."

Before anybody could react to what Ted said, Dobby walked into the kitchen, holding an envelope in his small hands. "A message came for you, Mister Kylie, sir." Dobby said as he pushed the envelope into Kylie's outstretched hands.

"Thank you, Dobby." Kylie replied, before opening the envelope and dumping out the contents onto his lap: it held a keychain, an eraser, and a note. He quickly read the note and secured the eraser and keychain in his inner pockets, making sure that they were close to him for when he would need them.

"So tell me about Gaetana," Sirius stirred the porridge he was eating around the bowl with his spoon, more interested in talking than eating. "She's your future bride, isn't she?"

"Perhaps," Cedric nodded, wondering what Sirius was getting at.

Sirius grinned, looking over to the brown haired wizard. "And she's Tonks' best friend, right?"

"Maybe," Cedric shrugged, inwardly doubting that he would actually make it out of the war safe and alive enough to marry her.

"That's…convenient." Sirius laughed, wondering how two couples could be best friends with one another like that—Harry and Cedric, Gaetana and Tonks.

"Ted, do you remember when Gaetana first came over to our house after their first year?" Andromeda questioned her husband, a smile of remembrance on her face. "You thought Nymphadora was playing a trick on you with her silver hair and it wasn't until she started mumbling something in Italian did you realize that Gaetana wasn't your daughter."

"I didn't remember, but I do now." Ted admitted with a pinkish tinge to his round cheeks. As a child, Nymphardora would always turn into a different looking girl; one day she'd have pink hair, purple eyes, and a pig nose, while the next she would have wrinkled-looking skin and gray hair.

"Why does she have silver hair?" Sirius questioned, serious for the first time. He didn't know anyone who didn't have some sort of mixed heritage in their genes that had such a color of hair.

"Her mother has silver hair." Andromeda shrugged, knowing that Gaetana's Italian mother looked very similar to her daughter. "It's kind of like a family trait."

"Sirius, we should get going." Emmeline suddenly said, as she hopped up to her feet and brought her porridge bowl over to the sink.

"Right," Sirius agreed, shimmying himself out of the bench and getting to his feet, as well.

"Where are you going?" Cedric questioned, looking up to the older wizard.

"To a Muggle store, we need to get a rope." Sirius grinned, exiting the room without saying another word; Emmeline waved to everyone and followed Sirius out.

"What does that mean?" Kylie questioned, using a napkin to wipe his shadowed face.

"Who knows, its Sirius, he never makes any sense." Andromeda muttered, turning the page of her paper.

Later that day, Harry and Tonks met in the Ministry atrium around noontime, and then both flooed to their home, where they were going to have lunch together. They usually went to Grimmauld place to eat along with the other Ministry members of the Order, but today they wanted something special, both having a sense of dread for the coming battle. After fifteen minutes of preparation, they found themselves at their kitchen table, a spread of lunch meats and cheese in front of them as they each made a sandwich for themselves.

"I might not make it, Nymphie." Harry said, slowly, after taking the first bite of his sandwich—all of the sudden, he wasn't hungry anymore. "Voldemort is a better duelist and knows more about magic than I can even fathom."

"Don't say that, Harry." Tonks replied, not daring to meet his gaze. She couldn't think about such horrors; the thought of Harry dying broke her heart.

"We both know it's true." Harry murmured in a voice barely above a whisper. "This is my fight, but we have to be truthful to ourselves. I love you, I always will, I just wanted you…I wanted you to know that."

"I do know that." Tonks said, looking up at him with a sparkle of life in her eyes, the same spark of life that made Harry fall in love with her in the first place. They ate in silence for a few more minutes, each just enjoying being with the other, both inwardly hoping it wouldn't be the last time that they would eat lunch together.

"Do you still think I'm dangerously close to being the next Dark Lord?" Harry questioned, his gaze moving over to the window, where he could just make out the crashing of the ocean waves against the sand in the distance—little packs of ice had began to form on the shore line.

"No," Tonks shook her head, moving her gaze over to the window as well. "Because we're married now, you know I'm the line in the sand that makes sure you don't go too far."

Harry smiled at that, remembering how Tonks had been worried that he hated muggles too much many times during the earlier part of their relationship. While he certainly didn't hate muggles, he still preferred to stay within the magical community, rather than go out into the muggle world. "Are you done?" Harry asked, looking at Tonks' half-finished sandwich.

"I wasn't too hungry." Tonks replied, giving Harry a sheepish smile.

"Good," Harry nodded, rising to his feet. "I want to show you something then."

Tonks nodded and got to her feet as well, wondering just what it was Harry had up his sleeve. The pair walked up to the library, where Tonks took a seat on the couch, while Harry entered his workshop to get a few things. He came back less than a minute later, carrying his precious invisibility cloak and a few other objects in his hands. He sat down next to Tonks, placing the items that he had gathered down next to him. "So what is it that you wanted to show me?" Tonks inquired, curiously, looking from the items back to Harry.

"There is something I haven't been telling you," Harry began, meeting Tonks' multicolored gaze—one eye was blue, while the other was brown. She looked at him and blinked slowly, wondering just what it was that he had been lying to her about, hoping that it wasn't serious. "You know how I told you about the Elder Wand after you saw the marking on my back?"

"Right," Tonks nodded, nervously. She gulped down the ball that was in her throat, trying to calm the nerves that were rising in her belly.

"What I didn't tell you is that the Elder Wand truly is one of the Deathly Hallows, and that I have the two other Hallows, as well: the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility." He took the Peverell ring off of his right ring finger and placed it on the table; likewise, he took his invisibility cloak that was on the couch next to him and placed that, too, on the table.

"But that's your cloak; you mean to tell me that that's a Deathly Hallow?" Tonks questioned, confusedly. She knew about the Deathly Hallows from the stories that her mother had told her as a child, though she had always thought they were just a fairy tale, a story that was fabricated by Beedle the Bard.

"Yes," Harry nodded with a wide grin. "They're real, Nymphie, which brings us to why we're up here." Harry reached down to the table and picked up the Peverell ring into his left hand. He wiped the sweat off of the palm of his right hand, a nervous excitement overcoming him as he realized that he was going to see the people that have littered his dreams since he was a child. He turned the ring in the palm of his hand three times, saying, "I want to see my parents."

When he placed the ring down on the table, two images popped out from the black stone; they were more solid and less fluid than a ghost or a spirit, but much livelier than a priori shadow—they were different than both, yet in many ways similar to both as well. They were more than a priori shadow, he could tell, but they weren't like they would be if they had become ghosts. It was like a reflection in a mirror, not the person itself, but not someone different either. The two forms grew and grew until they were about the size of a man and a woman, their feet connected to the black stone that rested on the table in front of Harry and Nymphadora. Their faces then became more and more pronounced, forming into a woman with dark red hair and brilliant almond-shaped green eyes, and a man who wore circular glasses and had jet black hair that stuck up at all angles: Lily and James Potter.

"Hello Harry," Lily said, smiling down at her child, the boy that she willingly gave her life to protect. In her opinion, he looked exactly as James, perhaps even more handsome, though she immediately recognized that he still had her green eyes that looked remarkable on him. She was wearing the same clothes that she wore the night that she died, just as James was next to her.

"Mom," Harry replied in a soft voice, trying to fight back the tears that were coming; he wiped his eyes, and looked over to his father, who hadn't taken his gaze off of Harry's features. "Hi Dad." It was strange looking at his father, who still seemed so young, even younger than Harry was, but still, Harry could see the aged wisdom that was hiding behind the young face.

"Hiya, Harry." James said cheerfully, though Harry could tell he was also forcing back some tears. He loved his son more than anything in the world, and to finally see him as a grown adult, it was almost overwhelming.

The parents' eyes flicked over to Tonks, who was sitting over to the side, watching them with her mouth open agape: all of this was incredible to her. That magic, the magic of the resurrection stone, was unreal, something that seemed much too powerful to actually exist. "And who is this lovely young woman?" Lily questioned, giving a sideways glance to her son.

"This is Nymphadora, my wife." Harry grinned, grabbing Tonks' hand and pulling her closer to him.

"I've heard so much about you." Tonks rasped out, trying to figure out how this was all possible. She was thrilled to finally be meeting the couple that she had heard so much about from Remus, from Sirius, and even from Dumbledore. To her, they were this mythical love couple, who died so very much in love in a courageous way and would always be together, like Pyramus and Thisbe or Tristan and Iseult.

"Not about us exactly, but…we get the point." James grinned a mischievous smile, one that he wore so many times during his days at Hogwarts. "It's a pleasure."

"It's coming soon." Harry said, looking from his father to his mother. "The final battle with Voldemort, well, it's coming. I don't know if I can beat him, I could die."

Lily gave harry a sad smile, knowing that it was destiny designed by a prophecy that forced her child against the darkest Dark Lord of all time. "We believe in you, Harry."

James nodded from his wife's side, his black hair flapping all over the place. "We will always believe in you."

"You can do it. Stay true to yourself and what you represent, and you will defeat Voldemort, I know it." Lily cooed in her soft and soothing voice, a trait that Harry had always imagined she would have. "You are special, so very special; you would be special regardless of the prophecy that was made."

"Be confident, you're a Potter, you'll be fine." James said with a large smile on his face, a confidence to him that Harry knew masked a deeply worried individual.

"Thanks, I…I needed that." Harry replied, giving his parents a small, almost timid smile.

"We should get going, Harry." Lily said, still smiling sadly at her son.

"I know," Harry agreed, nodding his head.

"While we will always answer when you call, both of us do not want you living your life based around using the Resurrection Stone to speak with us." James said, looking over to Lily, who nodded next to him. "We love you, and we want you to be happy, living the life we both dreamed that you would have."

"I know," Harry said again, knowing that what they were saying was true. While the Resurrection Stone was a remarkable object, engrained with countless of fabulous magicks, it wasn't something that should be used wildly—but that didn't mean he wouldn't use it, because he knew he would; it was his to use after all.

"We love you." Lily cried, and then her gaze moved over to Tonks, who had been silent while they talked. "Take good care of each other." She said to her daughter-in-law, knowing that they both loved each other just as much as she and James did.

"We will." Tonks whispered, holding back the tears that had accumulated in her eyes.

"Good bye." Both Lily and James said in unison, before disappearing in a puff of smoke, their souls going back into the world behind the veil.

Harry gave out a loud sigh, his green gaze staring at the ring, a happy and content look on his face. He thought about summoning Roger, to talk to him and make sure he was okay, but decided against it, knowing that he wasn't ready for it. It still had only been three weeks since his close friend's death, and while he understood that death was necessary and sometimes desirable fact of life, he wasn't happy that Roger was dead. Plus, he figured that Roger wasn't ready for it, either—he would summon Roger sometime, just not now, not yet.

He put both his invisibility cloak and the Peverell ring back into his workshop, but held onto the Elder Wand in his inner robes, hidden away from the rest of the world, knowing that he would need it in his duel against the Dark Lord. Then, he left the library and made to move down the stairs, but suddenly stopped, turned around, and ran into his room at the end of the hall. "I can't believe I forgot!" He said, rushing over to the pile of dirty clothes that was in the hamper in his bathroom. He ruffled through them, searching for the pair of pants that he was wearing the previous day, and after finding them, he quickly emptied the pockets.

A small, book-sized portrait fell to the ground, and Harry grinned as he reached down and picked it up. He walked out of the bathroom, out of his room, and down the ahll to the other side of the house, where he stopped in front of a small, cubby-sized indentation in the wall. He took his wand, ran it over the indentation, and then placed the portrait on the wall. He said the incantation that was needed to make it grow and watched as it took its normal size, which was about the size of a wooden door that was able to grant a human passage. "Knock, knock." He said, knocking on the frame as if it was a door.

"Yes?" The Headmaster came into the frame, giving Harry a smile. "I was wondering when you would hang me up." Then, looking behind him to the back of the portrait, he noticed something. "What's behind my frame? Is that a hole in the wall?" He questioned, somehow sensing what was behind his frame, though Harry had no idea how.

"It's a potential secret room." Harry grinned, knowing that there was room for another six secret rooms throughout that hallway alone. All it was, really, was an indentation in the wall that allowed Harry to perform his magic in expanding it and resizing it, which was his specialty in the field of charm work.

"You haven't yet received the package, have you?" The Headmaster asked mysteriously, looking down at Harry with a gaze that was clearly hiding something.

"What package?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"A package from Gellert; oh well, you'll get it soon." The Headmaster said, walking out of the frame. "I'll let you know if I hear anything." The voice of the Headmaster came from the portrait, though the Headmaster was already out of sight.

Harry shook his head and confusion, and as he headed for the stairs to go down to the first floor, he saw a large bird flapping its wings outside of one of the hallway windows; he quickly made his way over, wondering what was going on. He opened the window and allowed the bird in, and then he reached down and took off the small box that was strapped onto the bird's leg. Once it was free of the box, the bird flapped its wings and took off into the air, not waiting for Harry to give it an owl treat. "What is this?" He asked to himself as he unwrapped the brown paper that covered the box. He ripped off the tape that sealed the box and opened it up, revealing a piece of white parchment with a golden border around its edges. He took the piece of parchment into his hands and when his skin made contact with it, words in blue ink appeared in the center of the parchment.

_It is up to you to decide if you want it or not. You know the spell. _

_G.G._

"What the…?" Harry questioned confusedly, before he heard Tonks' voice calling up to him to leave. He put the piece of parchment down onto a table that housed a vase of flowers, deciding to figure out what it meant later, and then walked downstairs, entering the living room.

"Ready?" Tonks asked as he entered the room, handing Harry the bowl of floo powder. They stepped into the large fireplace, and in a flash of green flames, they both were gone, traveling back to the Ministry to finish off the rest of the day. After arriving in the atrium, they kissed each other goodbye and went to their respective offices.

"Potter, can I speak with you?" Gawain Robards called as soon as Harry entered the Hit Wizard office. His eyes moved about the room, seemingly taking a count of who was on duty at the time, though Harry wasn't quite sure why.

"Of course," Harry nodded, following Gawain down into the Auror Office and entering his personal office—Kingsley was there, sitting down in a chair in front of the large oak desk. "Hey, Kingsley, how are you?"

"Kingsley here told me about the Dark Lord's plans." Gawain started, not allowing Kingsley time to respond. "What will you need?"

"Me?" Harry cocked an eyebrow, startled by Gawain granting him authority. Since there were countless of other Hit Wizards or Aurors who had seniority over Harry, he was surprised that Gawain decided to choose him, rather than the others—he guessed that Shacklebolt had something to do with it. "I figured I would let you know when I get word that Voldemort is attacking and then I'd leave, while you gather all of the Ministry Officials that you think could help and come to Hogwarts as soon as you could."

"Right, right, that'll work." Gawain nodded in agreement, making a mental mark of it. "I take it that you have the Portkey password for Hogwarts?"

"I do, sir." Harry answered in the affirmative. Seeing that Gawain was done, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of parchment. On the parchment, four names scrawled in green ink, with the first being Snape and last name being Rosier. He had been planning on giving this to Gawain on the day that he left to protect Hogwarts, but he figured now was a better time since they both would probably be in a rush at that time and he might potentially forget.

"What's this?" Gawain questioned, looking down at the parchment and then back up to Harry.

"If anything should happen to the Order or me, make sure these people are protected." Harry answered, not responding to Kingsley's questioning glance. Gawain nodded, but stayed silent, securing the parchment in the top drawer of his desk which was locked with a charm that only he could undo.

Harry and Kingsley left the office not long after that, and Harry decided to walk with Kingsley down to the Minister's Office, where the Auror was now stationed. "Rufus!" They heard Ludo Bagman yell out, jogging up to the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Office. "I'm glad I caught up with you, my father needed to discuss something with you."

"Oh," Rufus Scrimgouer said, turning around to meet Ludo. The Aurors that were acting as his bodyguards looked away and talked amongst each other, as Ludo and Rufus began to speak. Harry threw a look to Ludo when the pair passed them, but he and Kingsley continued on towards Amelia Bones' office, not thinking twice about the situation.

"He asked me to find out if you wanted to go hunting with Tiberius Ogden, Bertie Higgs, and him this weekend." Ludo said, watching as Harry and Kingsley disappeared with a dangerous look in his eyes that Rufus didn't notice.

"This weekend, you say?" Rufus questioned, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, we still have work to do against the Dark Lord."

"Well," Ludo smiled charmingly, trying to persuade the influential Ministry Official. "If we were alone, I'm sure that if I told you what it was they planned on hunting it would change your mind."

"Would it, eh?" Rufus said, a small, mischievous smile appearing on his face. "Shall we go into my office, then?" The pair headed to Rufus' office which was the opposite way down the hall from the Minister's; it was directly the below the Auror Office and the Hit Wizard Office which was one and two floors above, respectively.

"Sir, should we come in?" One of his two Auror bodyguards said, moving his eyes over to Ludo.

"No," Rufus shook his head in the negative. "That won't be necessary." The two Aurors nodded and turned around, taking their spots as sentinels in front of the door. "So what was it that you had to tell me?"

"You shouldn't let strangers into your office." Ludo Bagman mocked, flicking his wand at Scrimgeour and gagging his mouth. Ludo flicked his wand again and strings wound their way tightly around Scrimgeour's legs and hands, binding him from moving. "It took me awhile to figure out a way to get close to you, but once I found out that you liked to keep your hunting trips with father Bagman and your friends a secret because they were illegal, I knew I had my way in." Scrimgeour squirmed in his bindings, but no matter how hard he tried, they would not release their grip. He looked up at Bagman, his eyes asking the question that was on his mind: why?

Bagman squatted down, and a broad smile appeared on his face as he stared at Scrimgeour. He reached down to his ankle and pulled out a silver flask, and then brought his hand up to Scrimgeour's head and yanked out a single grey hair. He uncapped the flask and dumped the hair into it, and then took a swig from the flask before capping it back up. "First, let's change my clothes." Bagman said, bringing his wand down the entire way of his body, transfiguring his clothes to be an exact match of Scrimgeour's. "And then let's say bye to you." He reached back into his pocket and brought out a small pocket watch, and then shoved it onto Scrimgeour's body. He pointed his wand at the watch and said, "Sprung," which initiated the portkey.

He watched as Scrimgeour disappeared; then, almost immediately after, his body began to transform into Scrimgeour's body. When the process was done, he conjured a mirror and stared into it, making sure that everything was in place. "I forgot the glasses," He scowled to himself, disappointed that he could overlook such an important part of the outfit. He scanned the office, hoping that Scrimgeour had an extra pair around. There, on the wooden desk, he saw a pair of reading glasses that looked similar to Scrimgeour's so he quickly walked over to them and put them on, hoping that it would suffice for the time being. When he was ready, he walked out of the office, giving a smile to the Aurors that were directly outside.

"Where is Bagman, sir?" One of them asked, looking into the office for the brief time that the door was open.

"He apparated out." Scrimgeour said, gruffly, clearing his throat a bit with a cough. "You two must not tell anyone that Bagman and I talked, it's of the utmost importance that our conversation stays a secret."

"I thought it was impossible to apparate out of your office, sir?" The other Auror asked, slightly confused by the thought of Bagman disapparating from the office.

"It's possible; you just have to be allowed to do it by the person that owns the office." Scrimgeour lied, knowing that it would suffice as long as he looked confident about it. People were easy to fool like that: all you had to do was look like you belonged and no one would question you. "Now remember, our meeting must be a secret."

"Understood." The Aurors said, and after receiving a nod, all three started to walk down the hallway again.

Meanwhile, the real Rufus Scrimgeour had just landed in a dark dungeon, his bindings still tightly wrapped around his hands and legs. "Are you okay?" He heard someone say from behind him. Before he could try to answer, however, the door flew open, revealing the Death Eater Stephen Cornfoot.

Cornfoot flipped his wand through the air and the rope bindings on Scrimgeour's legs and feet were replaced with chains that were secured to the stone wall and his arm bindings disappeared. With another flick of his wand, the gag on Scrimgeour's mouth disappeared, allowing the older man to speak. "What's going on? Who are you?" Scrimgeour growled, staring up at Cornfoot, trying to decipher through the darkness just who the man was.

"Don't speak!" A female voice scolded, and Scrimgeour looked over to it and was surprised to see Rita Skeeter chained to the wall, as well.

"It would be wise to listen to your cellmates." Cornfoot laughed, before slamming the door and leaving the chamber.

"Where are we?" Scrimgeour questioned, looking around the room, trying to see if there was anything that could help him out.

"We're in the Dark Lord's dungeon." A familiar male voice answered, one that surprised Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour's gaze immediately snapped over to the voice, and his eyes went wide when he saw just who it was.

It was at five o'clock at night that the Dark Lord Voldemort stared at Barty Crouch, Jr, as the man walked into the throne room. The Death Eater had a cool air around himself, as if he was bringing great news to his lord. "We got Scrimgeour." The Death Eater said; his voice had a maniacal giddiness to it.

"You did?" Voldemort said, perking up in his throne a bit. He was thrilled that everything was finally coming together as he had planned, with the Ministry ready to fall as soon as he conquered Hogwarts. "That is why you are my most powerful, Barty."

"Thank you, my lord." Barty bowed deeply, admiring the praise that he received from his master, which was a leading factor in his defection to Voldemort in the first place. In Barty's mind, unlike his worthless father, Voldemort acknowledged Barty and his great powers, whereas Barty Crouch, Sr, ignored Barty and spent more time furthering his own career than he did with his own family.

"Give me your arm." Voldemort said, reaching out towards Barty. The Death Eater got back to his feet and stepped forward, rolling up his sleeve and allowing Voldemort to see the Dark Mark that was tattooed onto his arm. The Dark Lord pushed his spider-like pointer finger into the tattoo and the mark immediately burned black, signifying that the he was calling his Death Eaters to come to him. He sat back in his throne and waited for his servants to arrive, knowing that he would be sitting in a new throne room within the halls of Hogwarts soon enough.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, the Death Eaters began to apparate into the room. They appeared with a swirl of their black cloaks, their hoods up and their masks on their face, hiding their identity from the outside world, including their Death eater brethren. Then, more Death Eaters came in from the doorway, and before long, the entire lot was there, minus Quirinus Quirrell, Peter Pettigrew, Walden Macnair, and Fenrir Greyback. "Welcome, welcome." Voldemort spoke, watching as Nagini slithered around the circle of Death Eaters.

"We are here to serve, my lord!" A Death Eater, who Snape thought was the younger Avery, yelled, as many other Death Eaters nodded vigorously in agreement. Finally, at long last, they would get their decisive battle against the mudbloods, the half-breeds, and the blood traitors that opposed them.

"The time is now, my Death Eaters." Lord Voldemort said slowly, rising from his throne-like stone chair. "The time is now to secure our dominance, to take a hold of the wizarding world's future and take our rightful places at the top. We will need to fight, to claw, to use our magic like ways we have never used it before, for blood alone moves the wheels of history, and it will be the blood of our enemies that allow us to ascend to power and bring in a new dawn to the wizarding world we all share in. It is our birthright as the most ancient and most powerful of our kind to rule, to use our magic to punish those who are beneath us. Once we capture the grand castle of Hogwarts, the Ministry is next!"

"Yes!" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed out, her masked-face hiding the ecstasy that she felt inside. At last, they would be able to do what she dreamed of doing ever since joining her lord's forces. Meanwhile, unknown to the other Death Eaters, both Kylie and Snape reached into their pocket and grabbed the stag sickles, and with one quick flick of their hand, they both touched their wandtips to the silver, alerting the Order of the coming threat.

In Harry's pocket, he felt the silver sickle heat up and his gaze shot over to Kingsley, who was staring right back at Harry with wide eyes. "It's time." Harry said, and then quickly flicked his wand and summoned his stag patronus, which disappeared almost instantaneously. "I just sent a message to Robards, he'll bring along the Aurors and Hit Wizards."

Harry immediately rushed up to the fireplaces in the main atrium, he heard Kingsley's footsteps pounding the floor behind him, and moving as swiftly as he could, he disappeared in a flash of green flames. He saw in the corner of his eye that the Order members who worked at the Ministry were also rushing to the fireplaces as well, presumably to follow him to Grimmauld Place. Once he arrived at the Order's safe house, he rushed into the sitting room, where Sirius was just laying out a long, thick rope, which Harry would turn into a portkey for the Order. "Is everything ready?" Harry questioned to Sirius, while he and Emmeline pulled the rope tight; it was so long that it reached from one end of the sitting room, through the thin hallway and to the front door.

"Portus," Harry said, pointing his wand at the rope, and then quickly thought of the password, _Earwax Bean_. It was tough to create password protected portkeys as the person had to concentrate on both the spell, specifically where the portkey would take them to and when it would take them, and the password that would allow the portkey to breach the wards.

It took just over two minutes before most of the Order members arrived, ready to go and protect Hogwarts with their lives. "Where are the Weasleys?" Wayne Hopkins questioned, looking around for Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George.

"There's no time to vait, Harry." Viktor said, wanting to get to Hermione as quickly as he could. He needed to make sure she was all right, to see that she was safe and sound, free from the danger of the Death Eaters.

"I agree." Tonks nodded, looking up to Harry, wondering what he wanted to do.

Harry bit his lip and after a brief moment of thought, he brought his wand up to the rope and said, "Sprung." With a pull behind their navels, the Order of the Phoenix disappeared from Grimmauld Place, only to reappear in the Great Hall of Hogwarts a moment later.

Meanwhile, in Gawain Robards office, he had just received word from Harry's Patronus that the attack of Hogwarts was commencing soon. "Excuse me, sir." Daphne Nott knocked on the door of Gawain's office, as Tracey Davis watched the Aurors rush around the office next to her. "I can see you're busy, but I'm here to tell you about something very important."

"Is it as important as Hogwarts being attacked?" Gawain replied, not looking up from his desk to meet Daphne's gaze.

"Well, no, that's what I was here to tell you about, actually." Daphne answered, surprised that Gawain knew about it already.

Gawain quickly looked up at Daphne and after seeing who it was, he nodded his head and continued gathering everything that he needed off of his desk. "We're leaving in a few minutes; you can come if you want." And with that, Daphne and Tracey knew that the conversation was over and they readied themselves to leave with the Aurors.

Harry and the rest of the Order had just arrived at Hogwarts when they saw the entire community of the school—students, teachers, and other personnel—funneling into the Great Hall. Headmaster Minerva McGonagall walked briskly towards Harry, who came over and met her halfway. "Potter," She said, looking at the students gathering at their house tables. "I suppose we should go over just what we will be doing."

"Of course," Harry nodded, and opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped when he saw groups of Aurors, Hit Wizards, and other Ministry Officials appearing via portkeys throughout the Great Hall. "Here they are," Harry muttered with a smile, knowing that they would need the reinforcements that the Ministry provided.

It took another few minutes for everyone to gather their wits and gather around to discuss what needed to be done. Remus had just left his students and joined the main group, and was standing in the back next to Sirius when someone caught his eye. "Sirius, you see that man over there? The one that has the brown hair and that is wearing the Weird Sisters' shirt?" Remus asked, pointing over to an Auror who was leaning against the wall with some other Aurors.

"Yeah, I see him, why?" Sirius asked, looking over to the wizard.

"That's Edgar Bones' nephew, Gerald Bones." Remus answered, staring at Gerald with his amber gaze. His brown hair was cropped and parted in the middle, and his wand was poking out of his shirt's pocket.

"Really?" Sirius replied with interest, remembering how talented Edgar was before he was brutally murdered by Voldemort—he was one of the most powerful wizards of that age, a top member of the Order. He was a nice man, a pureblood who accepted everybody, regardless of their bloodlines, like most of the purebloods within the Order of the Phoenix. "Did he inherit his uncle's talent?"

Remus quietly shook his head in the negative. "He's good, just nowhere near Edgar was. He did, however, inherit Edgar's personality and beliefs. His sister, Susan Bones, was in Harry's year, and his aunt is obviously Amelia Bones, the Minister of Magic."

Meanwhile, a gang of small students, no older than twelve, giggled amongst each other as they pointed over to a female Auror and a male Hit Wizard that were a few feet away from them. "What is the difference between an Auror and a Hit Wizard?" The bravest of the group said with wide, interested eyes. The others behind him all smiled up to the pair of Ministry Officials, each showing their curiosity on their young faces.

The Auror and the Hit Wizard both looked at each other, giving a small grin. "Well," The Hit Wizard said with a voice that was somewhat gruff. "Hit Wizards like myself are trained in entrapping and hunting, while Aurors are trained in searching and dueling."

The kids looked up at them, more confused than ever. "Are you a muggleborn, sweetheart?" The female Auror questioned, bending down to be eye level with the boy. The boy nodded, allowing the Auror to continue on with what she was going to say. "You know about Muggle Policeman, right? Well, an Auror is like a detective, trying to find the bad guys who use bad magic, while a Hit Wizard is like a member of the S.W.A.T team, going into a dangerous situation to save people. And then there's the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, which acts like regular police patrolmen, keeping the general public safe on a day to day basis."

"So you fight Dark Wizards?" A girl behind the boy asked, looking at the Hit Wizard. Then, her eyes moved over to the Auror. "And you capture criminals?"

"Sure." The Hit Wizard nodded, just wanting the children to stop bothering him. In truth, the girl had it backwards, but they were annoying him too much so he didn't bother correcting her.

"Thank you!" The kids said in unison before running back to their friends, who were sitting on the ground with the rest of their house.

"You could be a little more patient, you know." The female Auror scoffed, rolling her eyes as her partner's actions. The Hit Wizard didn't bother replying, instead just shrugging his shoulders.

Across the room, many of the Hogwarts Professors and the higher Ministry Officials were gathered together, discussing what had to be done. "We need to get the students out of here." McGonagall said, earning agreement from all those in the circle.

"What are we going to do? We can't just march them out of the front gates." Flitwick argued, looking up to the Headmistress, wondering if she had any ideas.

"Send them through the floo to the Ministry." Gawain Robards suggested, knowing that the Ministry would be as safe for them as any other place.

Pomona Sprout shook her head, realizing that it would take too long for the students to floo to the Ministry using only the common room fireplaces. "That would take a long time."

"Not necessarily," Cedric piped in, looking over to Harry. "We can use the Room of Requirement, and ask for a room filled with enough floo connected fireplaces to get the students out quickly."

"Go; send me a message when the room is created." Harry agreed, not seeing any other solution. They could lock them away in the house common rooms, but if they were to fail and Voldemort was to take the school, the children would be left at the Dark Lord's mercy.

"Right." Cedric replied, gesturing for Viktor to come with him up to the Room of Requirement.

"Head of the Houses, talk to your students, tell them to be prepared to move as soon as we get word." McGonagall said, wanting to mobilize as quickly as possible.

"What about the Slytherin House? Snape isn't here." Professor Sprout questioned, looking over to the group of Slytherins that were sitting at their long house table.

"We'll talk to them." Daphne Nott, nee Greengrass, said as she and Tracey Davis walked up to the group.

"Tracey? Daphne?" Harry gasped, with his eyes wide in confusion. "What are you two doing here?" He questioned, wondering how the pair had gotten there.

"We heard from my husband," Daphne started, a tone to her voice that Harry had heard only once before when she was really angry. "That Hogwarts was being attacked tonight, so we're here to help."

"Right," McGonagall started, nodding to Professor Sprout, Remus, and Professor Flitwick, the Heads of House for Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw, respectively. "Tell the students to listen to the grown ups who will lead them to their safety, do not trail away from the group, and that the students of age may stay and protect Hogwarts, if they desire to."

"Are you sure about that?" Gawain Robards asked, wondering if it was the smartest idea to let students stay and fight.

"It is their right to decide." McGonagall ordered with conviction, remembering how she was so independent when she turned of age: she would have never left the school if in the same situation as the current students.

Without saying anything else, the Heads of the Houses and the duo of Tracey and Daphne all walked over to their respective students. Harry also walked over with Tracey and Daphne, and after they were finished, he brought them over to the side, and said, "I want you two to lead the students to where we're sending them and then stay with them at the Ministry."

"If that's what you want, Harry." Tracey said, knowing that Harry had his reasons for sending them away. She looked over his shoulder and saw that Despereaux was watching them, clearly interested in what she was doing there. She excused herself for a moment and walked over to the Frenchman, wanting to tell him that she hoped that he would be okay after the battle. She came back two minutes later with a smile on both her face and Despereaux's face, as well, just as a silver patronus appeared in the Great Hall.

The patronus took the form of a mole, which was an animal that Harry knew signified Cedric Diggory. Sure enough, when the mole opened its silver mouth to speak, the voice that came out was Cedric's. "The room is ready, Viktor tried the floo and it worked."

"Okay!" Harry yelled with his voice magically magnified to reach everybody in the room as if he was standing right next to them. "Will all of the Heads of Houses gather your students, with the youngest in front, and prepare to move. Four Aurors, two in the front and two in the back, will be escorting you all, along with the other members of the Hogwarts staff. After all of the students are safe, you may come back down here if you so choose. Do not be alarmed, we have already made arrangements to have the children chaperoned at the Ministry."

Gawain Robards sent over a combination of four Hit Wizards and Aurors to each of the four houses. Two of the Aurors or Hit Wizards stood at the front of the line of students, while the other two stood at the back, guarding the students like a sentinel would a city gate. Before long, the Gryffindor House started the procession, with Remus leading them up to the Room of Requirement; next went Hufflepuff, then Slytherin, and finally, Ravenclaw. When the students were all gone, Harry looked over to the spot the Houses just were standing at, noticing that a few of the of-age students actually did stay.

Ravenclaw had three members of the house stay, all of whom were half-blooded and did not agree with Voldemort's ideals. Five members of the Hufflepuff house stayed, each one trying to hide the fear they had inside, though none of them were very successful at it. In Gryffindor, there were seven members who stayed, but most surprisingly, the Head Boy who was in Gryffindor left with the younger students. Slytherin only had one wizard stay; he was tall, dark, and brooding, but his eyes had a light to them that showed he was good natured and loving. A girl from Gryffindor, a pretty but skinny witch, came over to him and held his hand tightly, giving him a large smile as she kissed him on the cheek, her fear showing on her face just as much as the students from Hufflepuff.

"It figures that the Slytherins would have the least support stay, most of their parents are probably the Death Eaters they'd be fighting." The Auror named Proudfoot scathed with a look of disgust on his face. "Cowards."

"They're seventeen years old." Sirius angrily scoffed at the Auror's words, staring at him with disbelief. In a way, they insulted the memory of Regulus, Sirius' now beloved brother who died in the fight against Voldemort. "You can't blame them for being scared."

"The bravest men I know are Slytherins," Harry replied, disagreeing with Proudfoot's assessment of the Slytherin House. Regulus Black, Severus Snape, and Kylie were all Slytherins, people who braved death in their drive to defeat the Dark Lord. Plus, his own mother-in-law was a Slytherin, and she was anything but a coward.

Harry jumped onto the teacher's table, looking over everyone that was in the Great Hall. There were teachers, members of the Order, Ministry Officials, and Aurors and Hit Wizards, all with their wands at the ready. They all seemed to know that this was important, that Hogwarts must not fall that night or any night. "Students, you are so brave for staying, for wanting to protect this castle, which many of us call our home." He said in a loud voice, this time forgoing the spell that would magically enhance it, instead wanting the connection with everyone that using his own voice offered him. "We cannot, under good conscience however, allow you to put yourselves in danger." Seeing many of them about to speak up in discontent, he smiled and put his hand up to stop them. "Instead, you will be going up to the towers with many of your professors and guarding the castle, preventing any Death Eater from entering the halls of the school."

"Why is he in charge?" John Dawlish muttered to Gawain Robards, wondering why a much lesser Ministry worker was ordering him around. He was one of the personal bodyguards of the Minister of Magic; he didn't take orders from some puissant Hit Wizard, regardless of said Hit Wizard's history as the Boy Who Lived.

"Hogwarts is not Ministry property." Robards replied, giving Dawlish a look. "If the Headmistress does not disapprove of his leadership, and the Governors of Hogwarts are not here to veto her decision, he is the leader and you cannot change that. Plus, I trust him and have given him authority enough to make decisions regarding how we fight this vile threat."

"Filius, you will lead the students up to the Astronomy tower—there, you will be able to see the main gate and the grass below or anyone who wishes to enter the castle that manages to get past us." McGonagall ordered, knowing that he was the best wizard of the teaching staff that did not include members of the Order such as Hermione, Remus, or herself.

Filius nodded, and gestured to a few teachers off to the side that Harry didn't know. Then, turning to the students who were all grouped together, seemingly ignoring the divisions that the Houses created, he said, "Come students, we will get prepared." Before they left, however, six more students came rushing into the Great Hall, all of age and with looks of confidence on their faces. Many of the students already present in the Great Hall ran over to their classmates, all giving them hugs and pats on the back. The Slytherin boy especially seemed to give a sigh of relief, though Harry did not understand why. _Perhaps he was disappointed in his schoolmates? _Harry questioned to himself, before shaking the thought off.

There were three more Slytherins, two Ravenclaws, and a Hufflepuff, all who appeared to have overcome their fear and decided to defend their school. "Is it too late to fight?" One of them questioned, earning a smile from Flitwick. They all walked out of the Great Hall together, twenty students and five teachers, led by Filius Flitwick up the tallest tower of Hogwarts, the Astronomy Tower.

"Right," Harry continued, noticing that there were only four teachers of Hogwarts left: McGonagall, Hermione, Pomona Sprout, and Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher. Argus Filch, the caretaker of the school, was off in the corner, as well, with his cat Mrs. Norris tucked protectively under his arms. "As for the rest of us, well, I think we all understand the risks we are undertaking and what is at stake. Try to watch each other's backs, but most of all, be careful, and retreat to fight again if you have to."

On the other side of the room, the doors of the Great Hall were pushed open, and Remus, Cedric, and Viktor all returned, followed closely by four redheads. George and Fred Weasley entered the room, flanked by Bill and Charlie Weasley, two of their older brothers. Three wooden boxes were hovering behind them, charmed to float just a foot above the ground. Many of the Order members headed over to the Weasley's, welcoming them to the group, while Remus, Cedric, and Viktor all walked over to where Harry, Sirius, Hestia Jones, Emmeline Vance, Hermione, and Tonks were standing, all conversing quietly.

George, meanwhile, bent down and cracked open one of the boxes, taking out a dull grey cloak. "Shield hats, cloaks, and gloves, all on the house. They'll protect you from all sorts of jinxes and curses, except the deadly ones, of course." George yelled, tossing an Auror the cloak.

Fred popped open another box, and then said, "Well come on, what are you all waiting for?" Most of the room meandered over to the boxes, many of them taking one of the offered garments, while making room for their comrades to take one as well.

"How did you get in here?" McGonagall questioned, confusedly, wondering how they all got through the gates without being killed by Voldemort's Death Eaters.

"We got here through a secret passageway." Fred replied with a broad smile on his freckled face.

"How, we secured the ones that Pettigrew knows about." Sirius asked, thoroughly intrigued about the prospect of another secret way into the school. How had he missed it? A few days prior, Sirius and Remus had gone around Hogwarts and made sure that all of the passageways between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade were protected, in the hopes that Pettigrew couldn't use his knowledge of the school to smuggle Death Eaters in.

"One that even your clever little map doesn't know about." George replied, giving a Sirius a shady smile, though Sirius questioned whether that was true or not.

Fred made his way over to Charity Burbage, knowing that the woman was most likely worried about her daughter, Verity. "Verity's fine, she's hiding at my apartment." Fred whispered, referencing the fact that Verity was their store's attendant, and had been working there since they first opened after leaving Hogwarts.

"Thank you." Charity said, giving him a small, nervous smile in response.

"Harry, do you know where Hagrid is?" Remus asked as he walked away from the boxes with a cloak; he put the cloak on and marveled as it changed its size to fit him better, shrinking a bit in the arms and chest. "Good magic in this." He muttered to himself, impressed by the charm work woven into the cloak.

"Aren't you going to get one, Harry?" Emmeline Vance inquired, noticing that Harry had yet to move towards the boxes.

"What?" Harry asked, before shaking his head. "No, I already have a charmed cloak on." He smiled to the pretty witch as Sirius came over and whispered something into her ear which made her snort in laughter. "What were you saying, Remus?"

"Do you know where Hagrid is?" The werewolf questioned again, wondering why the half-giant wasn't in the Great Hall.

"He's in the Forbidden Forest." Harry replied, moving his gaze over to the werewolf.

"Doing what?" Tonks asked her husband with a quirked eyebrow.

Harry grinned in response, but did not answer, instead just saying, "Have you ever heard loud barks in the Forbidden Forest, Remus?"

"I guess I have." Remus shrugged, not seeing the relevance in the question.

"I did for the first time a few weeks ago when I went in there to get Acromantula venom." Harry replied, confusing both Remus and Tonks even more.

"Forget I asked." Remus exasperatedly said, leaving Harry and walking over to Hestia Jones.

"What was that about?" Tonks nudged Harry with her elbow, giving him an amused glance. "You haven't gone crazy on me, have you?"

"You know I'm only crazy for you." Harry corrected her, kissing her on the top of the head, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. He didn't know what it smelt like, but it was intoxicating to him, like the ambrosia was to the gods. "I love you." He whispered into her ear, before jumping back onto the table and doing a headcount of all who were there. There were thirty-three Aurors, five members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, ten Hit Wizards, twenty-five Order members, two teachers of Hogwarts that were not apart of the Order, and seven other Ministry Officials, bringing a grand total of eighty-two wizards and witches that were defending Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, in the Death Eater's compound, the Dark Lord had just apparated out, telling all of his servants to follow him to Hogsmeade. "Father!" Kylie said lowly, gripping his father's right arm, preventing him from apparating out with the rest of the Death eaters.

"Son, we have to go. If the Dark Lord finds us lagging behind, he'll kill us." His eyes flew wide open when he saw his son raise his wand towards his chest. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, stupefy!" Kylie apologized, as a red beam rushed at his father's chest, hitting him not a moment later. The older wizard dropped to the floor, unconscious, and Kylie stuffed the eraser portkey that was given to him by Harry into his father's hand, said the spell needed to activate it, and watched as his father disappeared back to his home. "It's for the best, you'll see that."

"How touching." Snape drawled as he and Rosier came over to Kylie.

"Come on." Kylie snapped, walking towards the door that would lead into the hallway that went to the dungeons—he could have sworn he saw Nagini slither that way.

"Where are you going?" Snape questioned, staring at Kylie and Rosier. "The snake is over there." He said, gesturing to the stone chair that was over on the other side of the room.

Back in the Great Hall, there was a sense of tension as everyone waited for the Death Eaters to start their attack, their nervousness palpable. "Charity," McGonagall quietly said, as she hovered one of the Weasley boxes over to where the pair stood. "Bring these up to the students when you go up to the Astronomy Tower. Tell them to put them on, that it'll protect them."

Hermione, having overheard what McGonagall said, raised a questioning eyebrow. "Charity isn't coming out with us?"

"No," McGonagall replied, shaking her head. "Charity is going to lock the main doors behind us with Argus and then go up to the towers with Filius and the other teachers."

"Oh," Hermione only managed to respond, not thinking of anything else to say. She walked back over to Viktor soon after that, who welcomed her with open arms.

"We should divide up who is fighting who." Cedric whispered to Harry, wanting to know what his friend thought about the idea. "It will be safer for us if we all stay in our own skill range, you know, so none of us try to over compensate and die as a result."

"That's fine, if you would like." Harry answered, seeing Tonks agreed with Cedric. "I'm fighting Voldemort."

Cedric smiled and pulled the other members of their tight group into it. "Sirius, who are you going to fight, if we can manage to see who is who out there?"

Sirius looked over to Remus, who gave a slight nod, almost as if he was answering an unasked question from Sirius. "Pettigrew is mine." Sirius growled; his hatred of Peter Pettigrew was written on his handsome face. He would do anything to get his revenge, and he knew that it would be coming soon, so very soon.

Before they could finish the conversation of who was fighting who, Harry felt a surge of heat overtake him, and for the briefest of moments, he was seeing the world through Voldemort's eyes once again. Like all of the other times, he was sensing everything that Voldemort sensed, as if it was a movie. He noticed that his surroundings were Hogsmeade, signifying that the Dark Lord had finally arrived. He had just passed Honeydukes and then the Hog's Head Pub, and was nearing the main gates of Hogwarts quicker and quicker.

He pulled himself out of his vision, and with a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "Voldemort's here." Sure enough, the Dark Lord's voice rang out through the air, magically transporting itself to everyone in the room. The spell was ten times more powerful than the one Harry had used not twenty minutes before, and many times more powerful than that of the Sonorus spell that most people used when needing to magnify their voice.

"**People of Hogwarts: If you do not allow me entrance into the environs of Hogwarts, you will all die, one by one. If you resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen as every drop of magical blood is a waste, but I will not be deterred from my quest. I know you are there, Harry Potter, and if you do not hand yourself over to me, your friends and family will all die, one by one, as well. You have five minutes to acquiesce to my demands and open the gates, or else I will open them for you, and you will all die. Five minutes." **

"Well, I guess it's time." Harry said to all of his friends, running his brilliant green gaze over all of them. "I wish you luck, and I hope to see you at the end of all this." He leaned down to his wife, his love, Nymphadora Potter, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "I love you, Nymphie, be safe." He whispered into her ear, sending a chill down her spine.

"I love you." Nymphadora replied, giving Harry a deep and passionate kiss. She had confidence in both of their abilities, but battling Death Eaters was always dangerous, and one simple slip up could get them killed.

Similar conversations were going on around the group, as well. Sirius and Emmeline both hugged one another, Emmeline giving the black-haired wizard a kiss on the cheek. "I think we should go on another one of those dates when this is all over." Sirius said with a charming smile appearing on his face.

"I would like that." Emmeline replied, returning the smile as she stared into Sirius' stormy gray eyes.

"Be careful out there." Hermione whispered to Viktor, not wanting anything to happen to her husband. If anything did happen to him, she didn't know how she would react: she had already lost so much during this war, but losing her husband would push her over the edge and she would just about die of a broken heart.

"Diggory, you remember our deal, don't you?" Gaetana asked with a raised eyebrow, referencing the couple's plan to marry after the war if they both survived.

"Of course," Cedric smiled in response, nodding his head vigorously. "I'll be waiting for you."

"Not if I'm waiting first." Gaetana replied, before running over to her father, Gawain, and giving him a hug and wishing him luck.

Sirius walked over to Remus, who was just pulling away from his hug with Hestia Jones. "Moony…" The wizard said, looking at his werewolf friend, seemingly not knowing what exactly to say. He had enjoyed the time spent with Remus since his escape from Azkaban; it was something that he wouldn't have traded the world for.

"Padfoot." Remus smiled sadly, disappointed that his group of friends weren't all together—it was eerily similar to what was happening between Harry and his friends, Remus thought. "For James?"

"For Prongs." Sirius grinned, though it did not reach his eyes. There was a feeling inside of him that made him think this would be the last time he would see his dear friend, though he didn't know if that meant he would die or if Remus would be the one to die.

After that, everyone began to funnel out of the Great Hall and out of Hogwarts itself, knowing that their five minutes were almost up. Harry and Tonks were the last to leave the Great Hall, each walking out of the school with their hands clasped together; before leaving the Great Hall, Harry peaked up at the ceiling, and gave a small sigh when he saw that it was cloudy outside, which couldn't help but make him think that it was foreboding of something. Argus Filch and Charity Burbage closed and locked the large doors behind them, then Charity added to the wards with a few flicks of her wand—they then both ran up the stairs till they reached the Astronomy Tower and joined the other teachers and students who were already waiting there. In the distance, they could just barely make out the swarm of Death Eaters who were standing at the gates, and some of the students were suddenly consumed with fear that they tried unsuccessfully to swallow down.

"**Your time is up."** Voldemort's voice rang out as everyone found their places on the great lawn that was in front of the school, in between the Forbidden Forest and the lake.

Harry's gaze moved above the tree line of the forest, and made out what looked to be a mass of floating black cloaks, and his eyes went wide with worry. Quickly, he grabbed his ebony wand from his pocket, making sure to keep the Elder Wand hidden under his robes, and yelled out, "Expecto Partronum!" Immediately, a silver mist shot out of his wand before condensing into a large stag, which raced towards the forest with long gallops. Tonks next to him also sent out a Patronus, hers taking the familiar form of a tiger, similar to what Harry's animagus form looked like. A flood of other Patronuses took shape from the rest of the Aurors, each taking their place between the group of fighters and the Dementors in the woods, protecting the wizards and witches from their deathly and cold grasp.

In the distance, an explosion sounded, Voldemort clearly trying to breach the wards and enter the grounds. "Good, my Death Eaters, continue using the spell." He said, watching as five of his Death Eaters barraged the main gates with a curse that was meant to harm the wards, but not destroy them entirely. Seeing it was time for him to act, Voldemort grabbed his wand and sent out a maroon spell, which smashed against the gates and began to bend them backwards. When the ground underneath the gates began to crumble, the gates blew apart and the wards failed, destroying the defenses of Hogwarts. "Hogwarts is mine!" Voldemort cackled, taking his first step onto the school grounds in forty years.

AN: This chapter is very, very foreboding, isn't it? Voldemort returns to Hogwarts, Harry sees his parents, Grindelwald sends Harry a package from the dead, and Scrimgeour is captured. Can anyone guess who the voice that Scrimgeour recognized was? Review and let me know who you think it was!

AN: The new story entitled "Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun," is coming along great. I still haven't made up my mind of whether it will be Bellatrix or Rowena, but both versions are going well.


	39. One, Two, Voldemort's Coming For You

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: There are only three more chapters (including this one) before the epilogue, so it's coming to an end very, very soon. This chapter is just part one of a two part chapter, so be ready for the next one! Also, I've made a lot of progress on my other story, Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun, so stay tuned for that.

S/N 2: I suggest reading chapter 20 before reading the next two chapters, because there is a scene in that chapter that is pivotal to the end of the story.

Chapter 39: One, Two, Voldemort's Coming For You

"It would have been easier with the Elder Wand, but Lord Voldemort does not need a silly little stick to perform great magic." Voldemort muttered in arrogance, earning the praises of his loyal and fearful Death Eaters. They all flocked behind him, their black robes billowing in the wind, while the light from their wands illuminated their masked faces—some had metal masks covering their entire face, while the original members had bone masks which stopped above the top lip. "Do it now, Crouch." Voldemort sneered, looking over to his left hand man with his crimson red eyes.

"Morsmordre!" Barty Crouch, Jr. yelled out, thrusting his hawthorn wand into the air and releasing a smoky green curse that made the Dark Mark appear in the cloudy night sky.

Harry and the rest of the gathered wizarding folk on the lawn looked up to the sky as the Dark Mark appeared high above them, which made many of them take a step back in fear, the realization that they might die finally hitting them like a blow to the chest. "That's a sign of something," Sirius muttered next to Harry's side, as his eyes roamed about the lands, searching for what the signal could be for. The Death Eaters were still far off from them, but the trees of the forest began to bristle, as if some great storm was coming from there.

Then, at the edge of the forest, four Death Eaters crept out of the shadows, garbed in their black robes and masks: three of them had bone masks, while the fourth was wearing a silver mask that had tribal markings carved upon it. Behind the Death Eaters, two male giants appeared; each of them knocked over five trees with a swing of their enormous wooden clubs, creating a large patch of open space where a dense part of the forest once was. Three mountain trolls then came into view, as well; the trolls were a bit smaller than the giants, and each was holding a large boulder over their heads. One of the Death Eaters sent a spark up into the air, and at once the dementors that were floating above the forest descended down upon the group of Hogwarts' protectors. The previously conjured Patronuses protected many of them, but the unfortunate members at the back of the group were able to feel the full effects of the evil beings, and as a result, their happiness was sucked out of them as their worst memories flooded their mind.

A Death Eater whispered something to the trolls, and suddenly, one of the monsters tossed the boulder that was in its hand towards the castle of Hogwarts; it made contact with one of the ramparts, and pieces of stone crashed down to the ground, just missing the group of protectors by mere feet. The other troll tossed its boulder at the group itself; as it rolled toward them, however, it was blasted apart by Gawain Robards with a simple Reductor Curse, preventing it from hurting anyone. The blasted rock created a cloud of gray dust in the air, making some of the protectors cough as they swished their wands in an effort to clear away the dust.

The Death Eaters at the gates began to walk up the path that led to the grass that the group of protectors was standing on, but they were still in the distance, nearly a half of a mile away. Voldemort stood behind them and turned his attention back to the gates, back to the wards of Hogwarts that were meant to protect the school from intruders. He muttered a spell and twisted his wand, watching with apt anticipation as the black metal gates hovered in the air for a second and then snapped back into place, as good as new. He didn't want to have to come back down after he captured the school to replace the wards, knowing that Aurors and Ministry Officials would hear about Hogwarts' fall and eventually come to take it back. When he turned around to face the Death Eaters, he noticed for the first time that they were nowhere to be seen—he had seemingly taken more time revamping the wards than he thought he had.

Just as the Death Eaters arrived at the grassy area, the giants that were at the edge of the forest came rushing out, brandishing their clubs with unbridled rage. From the west side of the castle, out of the shadows came Hagrid, who arrived with a herd of hippogriffs and invisible thestrals, another giant that was not nearly as big as the Death Eaters' giants, and a large, three-headed dog that looked to be foaming at the mouth all behind him. "Go, Fluffy!" Hagrid commanded, gesturing to the giant that was making his way towards the castle.

The dog barked out, a terrifyingly loud bark, and ran at the giant, his three-heads barking and growling and showing his numerous fangs. Fluffy jumped at the giant and knocked him to the ground with a thundering clash, almost crushing a group of Aurors who were fortunate enough to be able to leap out of the way. The giant tried to throw the dog off of him, but the dog was much too strong, even for the giant's massive strength. Instead, the giant tried to protect himself from the dog's teeth, hoping that the dog would grow tired sooner or later.

"Grawp, just like we talked about." Hagrid said to the smaller giant, whom Harry knew was his brother, though he had never seen him before. Grawp stomped towards the second Death Eater giant, who brought his club over his shoulder and then turned his attention to the smaller giant. Suddenly, the giant started swinging his club wildly in the air, as both the invisible thestrals and the hippogriffs began to peck at him from the air, hurting and frustrating him enough that his size advantage over Grawp was minimized. Grawp, after receiving instructions by Hagrid, brought his fist straight up into the giant's chin, knocking the giant back onto his heels.

One of the Death Eaters that was standing at the edge of the forest waved his wand in a circular motion, conjuring a wooden flute out of thin air. He took a step towards Fluffy and began to play a soft melody on the flute, a melody that seemed out of place due to the battles that were taking place all around the area. The gigantic dog reacted almost immediately, with his six eyes dimly falling closed, before his body collapsed onto the ground and he began to snore loudly. The giant pushed the dog off of him, and just as he was about to swing his club down at the dog in an attempt to kill it, he was attacked by a group of Aurors, who were using whatever spells they knew would effect the massive brute and penetrate his thick, impenetrable skin.

As many of the Hit Wizards and Aurors fought off the giants along with Grawp and Hagrid, the Death Eaters finally started to appear, their numbers great. Many of the members of Voldemort's army were wearing normal robes and lacked the distinctive masks of the Death Eaters, while some had black robes but no masks, and the rest were clad in the usual black robes and masks. The army stopped nearly fifty feet away from the Order, standing shoulder to shoulder, with Barty Crouch and Bellatrix Lestrange in the middle, their identities hidden by their bone masks. "Those aren't just Death Eaters," A Hit Wizard in the middle of the group said, loud enough for everyone to hear him. "Those are Hogsmeade citizens."

"Imperiused citizens." Kingsley scowled, angry at the Death Eaters lack of honor. His gaze then went skyward when he saw a figure come flying over the grounds, a plume of black smoke following in his wake. "He can fly? How can he do that?"

"That's…that's not possible." A Ministry Official muttered in fear, his eyes wide at the sight of Voldemort flying unaided through the air. It went against everything that he knew about the magical laws, everything that he had learned throughout his career; if Voldemort wasn't bound by the magical laws of everyone else, what hope did they have against him?

Voldemort landed in between the two groups, around forty feet away from Harry and the rest. Voldemort's red eyes moved off of Harry and over to the giants in the background, who had both been downed by Grawp and the Aurors who were fighting against them, which made him give a slight growl of frustration. "You have escaped me twice before, Harry Potter, but unlike your parents, you will not make it to three times." He said, suddenly, returning his gaze to Harry.

"This side, guard the forest." Gawain Robards pointed to the group of Ministry Officials who were standing across from the forest. "This side, take out the Imperiused wizards." He said, speaking about the group of Ministry Officials who were closest to the lake. "The rest take the Death Eaters."

"We'll see about that, Voldemort." Harry replied, taking a deep breath as he gripped his wand. He couldn't bring out the Elder Wand yet, not until he got word from Kylie and Snape that the snake was dead—if he did use the Elder Wand, it would ruin his plan. Until then, all he could do was stall, to defend himself and not go on the offense in the hopes that he would be alive when Kylie and Snape accomplished their task.

Voldemort stared at Harry, his red eyes burning in rage at Harry's lack of respect. "You are just like Dumbledore before I had him killed, with neither of you understanding how special I am. Only I am worthy of ruling this castle!"

"This is not a castle to rule!" Harry screamed out, feelings of anger overtaking him for a brief moment at the mention of Albus Dumbledore. "This is a school, a place to teach the young, to teach the generations of the future; even Salazar Slytherin knew that, Voldemort. And, in case you have forgotten, Salazar was driven out of his own school by a mere muggle lover and blood traitor in Godric Gryffindor." Harry said, emphasizing the word mere, knowing that the greatness of Godric Gryffindor would offend Voldemort.

"Do not dare tell me what Salazar did and did not know, mudblood." Voldemort scathed, fondling his wand in his right hand, anticipating the duel that was coming.

"Mudblood?" Harry sneered, a mocking smile appearing on his face as he thought of his next words in his mind. "We're both halfbloods, you and I. After all, isn't that why you chose me that fateful night? Plus, while I do not hail from Slytherin's line, we both are descendants of the Peverells, Voldemort, which means, in a way, that we're related to one another, however distant that relation is."

"Doubt that." Voldemort replied, though the look on his face betrayed his seeming indifference.

"And you know what else?" Harry added with a gleeful look on his face, knowing that with each passing word, Kylie and Snape were inching closer and closer to success. "Dumbledore was also a descendant of the Peverells."

"So then only the strongest members of our society are from our family." Voldemort said, wondering just how much Harry knew about his genealogy. _He must have learned of my Gaunt heritage from that miserable Dumbledore_, he thought to himself with a scowl taking shape on his face. "Don't you see, Potter? We were meant to rule! Join me, Harry Potter, and you shall rule by my side."

"Don't even bother; you're going down tonight, Voldemort. You see these people behind me?" Harry asked, gesturing to all of the people that were gathered behind him, ready to fight for what was right and noble. "I'm here to protect all of them."

"I ask you for the last time, Potter, join me or die." Voldemort again granted Harry a chance to be on his side, to fight for his cause. "I only asked your parents to join me once, consider this a compliment."

"I will never join you." Harry growled in fury, disgusted that Voldemort would dare speak of his parents.

"So be it." Voldemort growled as he raised his wand, which resulted in one of the Death Eaters at the forest's edge slipping back into the shadows of the forest, while the main group of Death Eaters began their charge. Without saying another word, Lord Voldemort sent a powerful curse at Harry, just as Harry took a few steps up to begin their duel.

At the end of the line of Death Eaters stood Mulciber, the Death Eaters' Imperius Curse specialist, who looked over to his army of Imperiused wizards and witches from Hogsmeade. He raised his wand high into the air, sent out a few green sparks from its tip, and then led them in a charge against the Aurors, who were trying to stun the innocent, rather than use lethal force against them. The use of Imperiused citizens put the Aurors in a particularly unpleasant place, as it was hard to try and fight non-lethally when an opponent was throwing lethal curses with no regard. Even so, the Aurors had to admit with indignant respect that it was impressive that Mulciber was able to curse so many residents of Hogsmeade, who numbered around twenty, since it was difficult to keep attention enough to Imperiuse even one person, let alone twenty like Mulciber had.

One Auror managed to stun the few wizards that were in between Mulciber and herself, and then sent a jinx the Death Eater's way. The Death Eater dodged and sent the Killing Curse back at the Auror, who dove out of the way but was then attacked by an Imperiused witch. Quickly, the Auror stunned the Imperiused witch, but just as she was turning around to face Mulciber once more, she didn't see the green light of death hit her in the face before she was dead, and she immediately fell to the ground with a loud thump—her body was cold and lifeless, and her eyes were still open as she became the first causality of the night.

The Death Eaters, meanwhile, had just charged towards the Order of the Phoenix and the Hit Wizards, who met them head on, and the two forces divided up into individual duels. Bellatrix Lestrange threw Killing Curses with reckless disregard, coming just as close to hitting friend as foe; she cackled madly as she saw a male Ministry Official fall to the ground, dead, and then moved onto her next victim. Tonks, all the while, had just started a duel with a short, squat witch, who had a bone mask covering her face, though Tonks knew who was beneath it: Alecto Carrow, sister of Amycus. Near them, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange were dueling two Hit Wizards, who were putting up a decent fight against the powerful brothers, though one could see that the Hit Wizards were entirely fighting a defensive battle.

In the center of the lawn, Harry and Voldemort brandished their wands against each other faster than the eye could see, both parlaying, blocking, attacking, and dodging in fluid motion. Sirius watched the exchange for a few moments, his eyes open in amazement as he saw the pair, wondering just how much magic Voldemort knew in his dark mind. "This is a classic case of an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force." Sirius noted, continuing to watch as Harry and Voldemort dueled. He remembered the times when James would duel Voldemort during the first war—he needed Lily there with him in order to even survive, let alone thrive like Harry seemed to be doing. An attack to his left brought Sirius back to his senses, and he swiftly dove to the ground, allowing the deadly curse to fly safely over his head. Quickly, he sent a stunner at the Death Eater who dared to attack him, diving himself into the battle just like the rest of his Order comrades.

"Is this the great magic that was prophesized that you would have? I was better than you are when I was a first year." Voldemort mocked Harry, blocking a curse that the younger wizard had sent at him with a lazy flick of his wand. "Not trying to kill me, I see."

"There are worse things than death, Voldemort." Harry replied, though he knew he would be trying to kill Voldemort eventually: not yet, not then, though.

"Only the weak believe that!" Voldemort shouted, tossing a crimson curse towards Harry, who summoned a bronze shield to block it. The curse bounced off of the metal shield with a loud clang, before fizzling out and leaving no lasting effects.

"No, only those who are the masters of death believe it." Harry returned, running his wand an inch above the snow: as he ran his wand, an invisible force pushed the snow towards Voldemort, which rushed at the Dark Lord like an avalanche. Voldemort waved his wand and transfigured the snow into deadly icicles, and then jutted his wand out towards Harry, making the icicles fly back towards the younger wizard. Harry quickly dove out of the way, rolled back onto his feet, and used the bronze shield to protect himself from the rest of the icicles. "That was close," He whispered to himself, hoping that Nagini was almost dead because he didn't know how long he could last by stalling the way he was.

Meanwhile, in the Death Eater compound, Kylie, Snape, and Rosier each inched closer and closer to the stone throne that Nagini had slithered under. The trio had attacked the snake just moments before, each missing with their respective curses, and the snake had managed to escape to her safety spot under Lord Voldemort's throne. Kylie moved around the throne so he could take a peek under it, and when he bent down on his knees and put his face to the floor, he saw Nagini, protected by a sphere-like orb of purple energy.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you just did this?" Snape questioned sarcastically, as he flicked his wand towards the throne and tossed it across the room, where it crashed against the wall and fell to the ground with a loud thump. Snape moved his gaze from the stone throne to the spot where Nagini's orb shield was revealed: it was a round sphere of purple energy that seemed to protect her from outside forces. "Stupefy," Snape chanted, pointing his wand down at the sphere. The red jet of light rushed towards the sphere, where it bounced off and was deflected towards Rosier, who was hit with the spell as a result and fell to the ground, clearly unconscious.

"Subtlety isn't your thing, is it?" Kylie growled to Snape, running his wand over Rosier's frame and performing the Rennervate spell that would wake the man up. "Not that I think that this thing can deflect a Killing Curse, but let's not try it, okay?" Kylie said, taking a step closer as he levitated the sphere higher into the air so it was around eye level. He brought his wand up to the sphere and poked at it, noticing that the wood of the wand wasn't allowed to enter the sphere just as the Stupefy spell wasn't. "Shut up," He said to Nagini, as the snake hissed angrily at him.

"Why do I get the feeling you're about to do something incredibly stupid?" Snape drawled, as he watched Kylie playing with the sphere.

"I'm going to reach in there, grab the snake, and pull it out. When I do, be ready to kill it." Kylie said, staring over to Snape and Rosier. "We'll go on my count, ready? One, two, three, go!" He said, thrusting his left hand at the orb of energy. His hand entered the sphere, which felt like pudding in his mind, and he reached out for Nagini, who tried to bite him, though the small sphere prevented her from really defending herself against him. He grabbed her head, her forked tongue hissing wildly at him, and when he tried to pull his hand and the snake out of the sphere, he realized for the first time that his hand was stuck. He tried and tried, but his hand could not come out—he even tried pushing Nagini out of the other side of the sphere, but she couldn't move out of the sphere, either. "Flesh can go in, but it can't get out." Kylie said in a panicked tone, as Nagini started to slither her way out of his grip.

"You can't move at all?" Rosier questioned, as he took a step forward, having just awoken from his spell induced stupor.

"No!" Kylie yelled out in pain as Nagini sunk her fangs into his hand. "Merlin, this isn't good."

"Don't let the snake bite you again, boy." Snape scowled, trying to think of a spell that would break the sphere's power. "Penetrare!" He shouted, moving his wand in a strange way that neither Kylie nor Rosier recognized. The sphere shimmered for a second, but ultimately resumed its natural state, apparently unaffected by the spell.

Kylie grabbed Nagini by the throat, and quickly ran over to the stone wall and bashed the sphere against hard rock. Again, again, he punched the wall, hoping that the sphere would break due to the physical force being applied to it, but after a few more bashes, he stopped, his breathing heavy and the sphere just as strong as it was before. "Well, that didn't work." He muttered in a downtrodden tone, knowing that this wasn't good: if they couldn't get the snake out of the bubble, how would they ever kill it and destroy the Horcrux inside?

"Hold out your arm." Snape said, and when Kylie did, he cut his wand through the air and released a whip of fire, which hit the sphere straight on. Like the spells they tried before, the fire-rope was deflected off of the sphere, not affecting it at all.

"Don't even think about cutting off my arm." Kylie growled after seeing the look that was in Snape's eyes.

"That wouldn't help, but…" Snape trailed off, poking at the sphere with his wand. "Rosier, do you have any suggestions here?" He questioned the older wizard, wondering if he was missing something that they could try.

"I was going to suggest what he said, you know, chopping off his arm." Rosier answered, giving out a wheezing laugh and shrugging his shoulders.

"Great," Kylie sighed, rolling his eyes at the thought of losing his arm.

"I know a spell that might work, but it could very well kill you in the process." Snape muttered, studying the sphere a bit more with his wand.

Kylie looked down at the floor, biting his lip, and then his eyes flicked up to Snape. "Promise me that you'll kill the snake and get the prisoners out. Promise me." Kylie said in a tone that both Rosier and Snape knew was important.

"I will," Snape nodded, staring straight into Kylie's eyes, promising him that he would carry out the rest of the deeds if Kylie was to fall.

"Do it." Kylie whispered, turning his face away from the sphere, wondering what Snape was going to do. He gripped down on Nagini even harder, feeling the snake moving furiously in his grasp in an effort to free herself. He felt himself getting drowsy due to the poison that the snake had injected into his hand, but he paid it no mind, wanting to make sure that the snake was destroyed first.

With his eyes closed, he heard Snape whip his wand through the air, and he could feel the spell racing towards him like some great beast. When the spell made contact with the sphere, there was a loud rumble and the sphere exploded outwards, sending a shockwave out that knocked all three of them off of their feet. Nagini slithered out of Kylie's grasp as he was thrown to the floor, and she raced towards the doorway of the room, intent on escaping to safety. "Get up," Snape snapped, as he rose from the floor; he had a large gash above his right eye. "The snake is getting away!"

Kylie staggered to his feet, and bent down and picked up his wand that had slipped out of his hand from the force of the shockwave. "Avada Kedavra!" He screamed out, throwing the Killing Curse towards Nagini just as she slithered out of the room. The curse sailed above her tail and slammed against the wall, scorching the stone a bit.

Rosier was the first to chase after her, and when he entered the hallway that Nagini had slithered into, he raised his wand and threw the Killing Curse at her just as Kylie had done seconds before. It just missed her, and bounced off of the stone floor and then off of the wall, before fizzling out on the ceiling, leaving a large scorch mark in its wake. He chased after her, his footsteps pounding off of the stone floor along with Snape's and Kylie's. Again, he threw a Killing Curse, but this time, he managed to hit her, and she went limp for a few moments, allowing the trio to make up some ground on her. As they got within ten feet of the snake, it flinched a bit and started to resume its slithering, desperately trying to get to safety, to protect the piece of soul that was inside, the one thing that was keeping her alive.

_Sectumsempra_, Snape thought silently, as he slashed his wand through the air in the direction of the snake's body. Like an invisible sword, deep cuts began to appear on the snake's body, with blood pouring out in all directions. Again, Snape slashed his wand, and in one final hiss of displeasure and a scream that was akin to a human's, the snake was dismembered, destroying the soul that was controlling it.

"Velehieb!" Kylie shouted as he twirled his wand, hitting the two snake pieces with a yellow energy beam that looked like an arrow. "It didn't move, I guess it's definitely dead, destroyed."

"Well done," Rosier nodded his head to Snape, slightly out of breath due to his old age.

"Lets go, we still need to free the prisoners." Kylie murmured as he rubbed his left hand, knowing that he needed to hurry before the venom from the snakebite by Nagini killed him.

Back at Hogwarts, Hagrid and Walden Macnair were locked in a duel—Macnair using his magic and Hagrid using his half-giant strength and resistance. Macnair twisted his wand, and Hagrid screamed out into the night as he was hit with a Conjunctivitis Curse in the face. Hagrid's eyes immediately puffed closed, forcing him to swing his large fists wildly in the air in an effort to hit Macnair as the wizard started to close in on him. "And the half-breed goes down with his eyes closed, not even able to defend himself. How pathetic," Macnair scolded in a mocking tone, gripping his wand and aiming it straight at Hagrid's heart. Just as he was about to throw the Killing Curse, he heard a loud thundering sound from behind him and he quickly spun around, trying to see what it was.

"Hagger?" The giant Grawp said dumbly, looking over to his half-brother Hagrid. He ran at Macnair with thundering steps, brandishing a giant's club, as the Death Eater moved in on Hagrid.

Macnair, who had just heard Grawp coming at him, quickly flung the green Killing Curse that was meant for Hagrid at Grawp. Grawp swung at the green ball of light with his club, knocking it like a baseball into a tree, which immediately burst into flames; the club started to smolder as well, forcing Grawp to throw it away onto the ground. Macnair started to back away in fear, and just as he turned to run, he was hit with Grawp's open right hand and sent flying into the air. He soared over the battlefield and landed in the center of the lake with a splash, where he was immediately dragged down into the depths by the merpeople, never to be seen again.

A little away from Hagrid, Sirius had just finished off a duel with a Death Eater he didn't know when he saw a short, pudgy Death Eater at the edge of the forest in the corner of his eye. It was the same place that three other Death Eaters, who had led the giants, trolls, and dementors, had stood before the battle erupted. Quickly, Sirius darted towards the Death Eater, knowing somehow that it would be Peter Pettigrew, the man he hated most in the world, even more so than Voldemort. The Death Eater immediately saw Sirius, and began to run the opposite way, away from the battle and away from the charging Sirius. Sirius threw a curse at the Death Eater, but the wizard managed to deflect the curse down to the ground, showing surprising skill with a wand.

Sirius continued the chase, and as he neared the slower Death Eater, he swung his wand at a log that was off to the side. As a result, the log went shooting through the air, knocking the Death Eater down onto the ground, where his bone mask slipped off of his face, revealing his identity. "I knew it was you!" Sirius yelled, seeing that the Death Eater was Peter Pettigrew.

Pettigrew jumped to his feet, holding his wand in front of him, readying himself for the fight. "Sirius," He replied, thrusting his wand towards the other wizard and releasing a purple jinx.

Sirius managed to evade the attack, and quickly returned it with a disarming jinx, knowing that if given the chance, Peter would concoct a plan to escape from his clutches once again. Immediately, Pettigrew's wand jumped out of his hands, flew through the air, and landed in the muddy snow about five feet away from him. "Well, well, well, for so long I have dreamed of this moment." Sirius whispered with wide eyes as he inched towards his former friend, his wand held threateningly in his hand.

Peter stared at Sirius with fear in his eyes, hopeful that he could somehow talk his way out of the situation. "Please, wait, let me explain!" Peter squealed as he moved back from Sirius, before slipping and falling onto his back.

"I DID MY WAITING! Twenty years of it in Azkaban!" Sirius yelled out, breathing heavily. "I spent twenty years of my life in Azkaban because of you, Pettigrew." He whispered darkly, as he started towards the wizard. This was scarier to Peter than Sirius yelling or screaming, as Sirius' temper was usually explosive, but when he was truly angry to the soul, he managed to control himself, something that Peter had only seen once before when they were in Hogwarts.

Sirius crept closer to the downed Pettigrew, his wand held in front of him and a deep scowl on his face. "Please, please, Sirius, my old friend, spare me." Peter begged, falling backwards again as he tried to get away from Sirius.

"Spare you? Spare you? You dare ask me to spare you? After what you did to James and Lily, you dare ask me to spare you?" Sirius barked out, his eyes wide as rage consumed him. "After what you did to Harry, you dare ask me to spare you? After what you did to me, you dare ask me to spare you?"

"You know not the powers the Dark Lord possesses!" Peter squealed like a coward, remembering that fateful night when he dedicated his services to the Dark Lord. That night was forever etched into his memory, it was the night he sold his soul to the darkness that was inside him. "He would have killed me!"

"Then you should have died!" Sirius erupted, his anger finally overcoming his control. Azkaban had taken much from him, but his temper was not one of the many things taken. "You should have died like we would have for you. You should have died protecting your friends."

"I was never as strong as you," Peter cried, hoping to escape Sirius' wrath. He would do anything to survive, to live another day, even if it cost him his dignity and pride.

"That isn't going to work anymore, Peter, not at all. I've seen your true self: conniving, wily, and yes, even powerful." Sirius spoke, his voice cutting Peter to the bone. He had witnessed Peter's brilliance the day after Voldemort killed the Potters, and then he witnessed the rat's bravery during their last meeting, so many months ago when Dumbledore was still alive and Cedric still had his real hand. "It's over now, Peter."

"Please, please, spare me!" Peter chirped as he bowed deeply, his eyes searching desperately for his wand. If only he could find it, if he could reach it, perhaps he would have a chance to save himself from certain death.

_Don't kill him,_ Sirius suddenly heard a voice say in his head, though it wasn't his own. _Don't become a murderer for this scum_, another voice said, this one harsher than the first; Sirius recognized that one from his childhood and his teenage years because he had fought with it so many times during his early life. _Spare him, be the bigger wizard_, a third, this time a female voice said, as Sirius took a step back in confusion. He bit his lip as he watched Peter scramble in front of him, and just as Peter threw a ball of snow into his eyes, he released a stunner at the smaller wizard. The stunner made contact with the wizard, and Peter fell to the ground, stunned, a look of utter surprise on his face. "You're lucky they're more forgiving than I am, Peter." Sirius muttered, knowing who the voices were because they were etched into his memory: James, Regulus, and Lily, respectively. He then turned around and scanned what was happening with the other fights, trying to figure out where he needed to go, who he needed to help. He saw that Neville Longbottom and Despereaux Barnaud were struggling with three Death Eaters they were fighting off, and he quickly made his way over to them, hoping that he would get their in time to help them.

Near to the forest edge, Bill Weasley had just sent a curse at Fenrir Greyback, as he rushed towards the werewolf with his wand raised. Greyback had just entered the battle with a bunch of his werewolf brethren, but luckily since it was not a full moon that night, they were human—even so, their wolfish traits were still very much apparent. Greyback ducked away from the curse, and with speed no normal human could have, he closed the distance between Bill and himself to a mere five yards. "Expulso!" Bill yelled out, pointing his wand at the ground underneath Greyback's feet.

Greyback went flying through the air in result, but somehow managed to land on his feet, and was now closer to Bill than he was before. "Naughty, naughty." Greyback snarled, showing his fangs, which were sharp enough to draw blood just by running a finger along them. "I have always liked the taste of redheads, especially purebloods." He licked his lips, as he jumped towards Bill quicker than the wizard could react. Bill gestured ineptly with his wand, but he was struck in the face with Greyback's claw-like fingernails, creating a deep gash, the force of which knocked Bill back onto his heels and disoriented him a bit. Then, before Bill knew what was happening, Greyback pushed him down to the ground, jumped on top of him, and began to use his fangs to gnaw into Bill's face.

"Bill!" Fred Weasley screamed, rushing over to save his brother from being maimed by the werewolf. As he neared the pair, he sent a repulsion jinx at the werewolf, which knocked Greyback off of his bloodied older brother and onto the ground a few feet away.

Fenrir Greyback looked up at Fred with his cold amber eyes, as he wiped off the blood that was on his lips and chin with his black sleeve. "Little weasel wants to play, does he?"

"You bet I do." Fred angrily replied, throwing a curse at the werewolf.

Greyback dodged to the left, allowing the spell to fly past him and off into the distance. Fred threw another curse at him, and after dodging once more, Greyback gave the redhead a mocking smile. "Too slow, aren't you?"

"If you say so," Fred muttered, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white globe that was about the size of a tennis ball. He threw the globe onto the ground, near Greyback's feet, where it exploded outwards and released a puff of black smoke that morphed into a cloud of darkness that expanded larger and larger. "Stupefy!" Fred called out, releasing a jet of red light from his wand tip, which raced towards the confused Greyback.

Greyback managed to dodge the stunner and escape the Peruvian Darkness powder bomb, but when he exited the cloud, he had a diminished sense of direction. Before he could gather his wits, he was hit with a Silencing Charm from Fred's wand, which prevented him from speaking out loud. Fred followed the Silencing Charm up by binding Greyback with blue cords that wrapped themselves tightly around the Greyback's arms and legs, making him lose his balance and fall to the ground. "Beaten by a silly gag item from my shop, huh Greyback? And you call yourself the big, bag werewolf?" Greyback's amber eyes looked around Fred, where he saw Bill still lying on the ground, unmoving and near death. As he stared at Bill's body with a vicious smile, his gaze moved over to the Death Eater that was running towards Fred, his wand raised and ready.

"Avada Kedavra!" The Death Eater yelled, luckily loud enough for Fred to hear so he could move out of the way. Another Death Eater attacked the redhead from his other side, forcing him to turn around to defend himself; that, of course, left him open for attack from the first Death Eater, who sent a dark curse meant to boil the person's blood at Fred. Fred again managed to evade the attack after using his wand efficiently to summon a shield charm that protected him from the curse.

"It's going to take a lot more than you two to beat me." Fred confidently said, knowing that he had enough skill to defeat the Death Eaters. His eyes drifted over to his downed brother, and he immediately knew he needed to hurry or else Bill would die. Throwing a curse at one of the Death Eaters, he hoped to end it quickly so he could go and help Bill as soon as possible.

The Death Eater used his wand to summon the Shield Charm, which resulted in Fred's curse bouncing off it and dissipating in the air—the Death Eater then he threw a curse back at Fred. Fred just managed to get out of the way of the curse as the other Death Eater sent a Killing Curse towards him, forcing him to fall down onto the ground to protect himself from the green light. He rolled over through the muddy snow and jutted his wand out into the air; there was a loud crack and golden light radiated off of his wand like a flame would a torch. The light condensed into a ball and flew towards the two Death Eaters, who each ran away into the forest nearby before the ball of light reached them, apparently alarmed by the spell. "What was that about?" Fred confusedly questioned as he got back to his feet, wondering what made the Death Eaters run like that. He looked over to Greyback, who was still on the ground where Fred had left him. While Greyback was still bound, Fred couldn't help but feel unnerved when he saw the werewolf smiling back up at him.

As he was staring down at Greyback, that's when Fred felt it for the first time: the icy coldness of the dementors. He looked upwards to the sky and saw three of the dark beings descending upon him, and his mind immediately exploded with the worst memories of his life. He collapsed to the ground, writhing around in agony as he tried to muster the happiness needed to summon his weasel Patronus to protect himself. One of the dementors landed next to him and reached down towards him, and then gripped him by the throat and lifted him up into the air with unnatural strength so that the two were face to face to one another. Fred's eyes were closed at first but immediately popped open when he felt the dementor force open his mouth with his decaying hand. Horrified, Fred watched as the dementor locked its grimy mouth over his own, unable to react to what he knew was about to happen. It was almost immediate: his soul was taken from him, and his all-but-dead body was unceremoniously thrown to the ground, landing just mere feet away from his almost dead brother, Bill. As Bill laid bleeding out on the ground, his gaze weakly flicked over to Fred's body and an immense sadness overcame him: his brother was dead and gone from the living world. While Fred's body would live on for some time, it would never be the same, for his soul and essence was separated, leaving his body nothing but an empty husk.

Back at the Death Eater compound, the trio of Death Eater spies crept down the halls of the dungeon, knowing that there would eventually be a trap that would try to prevent them from continuing on with their journey. "Be prepared, I'm sure its not going to be as easy as just walking in there and freeing them." Kylie noted, as the turned down the hall that would lead them to the dungeon chamber that held the prisoners. They immediately saw the two sets of silver armor that stood on opposite sides of the door—one wielded an axe, while the other had a sword resting in its hands. Hanging on the stone wall across from the armor, they saw a large woven tapestry that had a troll holding a club over a stack of dead bodies, all of which were beheaded.

They walked down the hallway, passed one set of armor and up to the wooden door and they reached out to the doorknob. Before they made contact with it, however, a wooden club swung out from the troll tapestry that was fastened to the wall behind them. As the club made contact with their bodies, they were all flung to the ground by the club blow and slid a few feet, before coming to a stop against the far side of the hallway. "What was that?" Snape murmured groggily, as he watched, horrorstricken, as the troll climbed out of the tapestry and came to life. Blood started to pour out of a wound on his forehead that he head received from the fall he took from the shockwave previous to Nagini's slaying, forcing him to reach up and wipe it so it didn't fall into his eyes.

"That's…that's not possible." Rosier said, as the troll lumbered towards them, brandishing his club in a threatening manner. It was smaller than a normal troll, but just as strong and nasty-looking, and was accompanied by a smell that made the trio nauseous.

"Averte Statim!" Kylie yelled, pointing his wand at the troll's body. The troll was flung off of his feet by an invisible force, and landed heavily on the ground, cracking the stone under his immense weight. The troll groaned, but got back to its feet without any harm coming to him; it bent down and picked up the club that it had dropped so it could resume its attack. "Glacium!" Kylie said, watching as the stone floor beneath the troll turned to ice. The slick ice made the troll slip, where it fell onto its back on the ground once more. Seemingly unhurt, the troll got back up to its feet, continuing onwards to the trio. "I could really use your help about now." Kylie muttered, flicking his eyes down to Snape and Rosier, who were both groggily getting back to their feet—they each had taken most of the club attack and had both hit the ground much harder than Kylie had. "Avada Kedavra!" Kylie hissed, watching as the green light flew towards the troll and struck it straight in the chest.

The troll fell to the ground with a thud, earning a smile from Kylie as he turned his attention back to Snape and Rosier. "Behind you," Rosier muttered, seeing that the troll was getting back to its feet, unaffected by the Killing Curse.

"What magic is this? That was a Killing Curse, you should be dead." Kylie took a step back in horror, wondering what exactly was going on. Then, behind the troll, he saw the tapestry where the troll came out flicker in the breeze, and he was immediately hit with an idea. "Unless, you're not really alive in the first place, unless you're already dead and you're just a troll version of an Inferi." He reasoned, ducking under the troll's club, which clashed against the wall, creating a large dent and cracked stone. He rolled underneath the troll's legs, and quickly ran to the tapestry and brought his wand up to the fine canvas. "And if you're an Inferi, fire should hurt you, and if it's applied to the tapestry you came from, it should kill you." A spark of blue flame jumped from Kylie's wand tip, and in one quick burst, the entire tapestry was lit up in flames.

Likewise, the troll began to burn as well, and just as the tapestry turned into complete ash, the troll did too, apparently more connected with the tapestry than Kylie had originally thought. "Are you both okay?" Kylie asked, while walking over to Snape and helping the older wizard get up to his feet.

"I'm cherry, a bit of an ache in the neck, though." Rosier answered, running a hand through his gray hair. For the first time in a long while, he felt old: he had, after all, attended Hogwarts alongside Tom Riddle and had been one of the first Death Eaters who had followed Lord Voldemort. He was apart of Tom's Slytherin gang in Hogwarts, along with the fathers of Avery, Mulciber, the Lestrange brothers, and Theodore Nott—only three of them were still alive, which included Avery, Sr., Nott, and himself, all of whom were Death Eaters. "And you, Severus?"

"Fine," Snape snapped, using his wand to touch up the gash on his forehead. He wiped the blood off with his black sleeve, not accustomed to being caught off guard like he was. He could usually anticipate his opponents' moves, but the troll coming out of the tapestry was something he had never foreseen—it was such incredible magic that he never fathomed it could be possible. In a way, he respected Voldemort's ability to wield magic, though he had seen Dumbledore wield even more powerful magic than the Dark Lord over his time at Hogwarts—admittedly, he tended to overlook some of Voldemort's skills due to his hatred of the man for killing Lily that night so long ago.

"Good, we got to keep going." Kylie said, with the bite mark on his hand that was inflicted by Nagini in the front of his mind. His hand was almost entirely purple, and he was gripping it gingerly, clearly affected by the poison that Nagini had injected in him. They walked back up to the door, and with Kylie leading the way, they reached out to the knob. Just as they were about to make contact with the metal, Kylie stopped them all, realizing that if it was him, he would have another trap set up. "I don't think it's safe, maybe we should spell it open." The other two nodded, and Kylie took out his wand and pointed it down at the key hole that was in the door. "Alohomora." He whispered, tapping the hole three times, wondering if it would work.

On his left and right side, the two sets of silver armor jumped awake, wielding their individual weapons. "What now?" Rosier muttered, gripping his wand tightly as he slowly backed away from the armor sets. He dove over to the side when one of the sets slashed his sword through the air. "Confringo!" Rosier shouted, watching as the spell created a mere dent in the armor, rather than blowing it apart like he had anticipated. He backed down the hallway as the armor with the sword came lumbering towards him, trying to think of a spell that would work against the armor.

Snape and Kylie, meanwhile, were battling the armor with the axe, each finding out that their spells were useless against it just like Rosier had a moment before. They both tried more potent magic, but like before, the armor was just dented, rather than outright destroyed like they had expected would happen. "Fiendfyre may be the only way to destroy these things." Kylie whispered to Snape, who agreed with a quick nod of his head.

"If I were you, I'd clear the hall." Snape yelled out loud, looking over to Rosier, who nodded and sprinted down to the end of the hallway, and then turned left, heading back towards the throne room. "This might get a little hot." Snape whispered to Kylie, and then brought his wand up to his mouth. Without saying the Fiendfyre incantation, he blew on his wand tip and watched as a ball of searing orange flames appeared, and once the ball was about the size of a quaffle, he jettisoned it from his wand tip and sent it flying towards the armor. Almost immediately, a large whale-looking beast took shape from the fireball and barreled down the hallway, incinerating anything and everything that it touched, including one of the sets of armor. The other just managed to escape the same fate as its twin by lying on the ground, but it got up right away after the fire-beast passed and continued on its pursuit of Kylie and Snape, charging down the hallway with its sword readied in the air.

Mimicking Snape's actions from before, Kylie brought his wand up to his mouth and blew on it. Unlike Snape's fire, a cloud of ice in the shape of a bird came forth from the wand instead, freezing the armor solid: it was unmoving, but still alive and active. Then, Snape sent out another blast of Fiendfyre, this time incinerating the stationary armor for good. "You can come back, Rosier." Kylie yelled out to the other member of the group, who returned seconds later with a smile on his face.

They all walked up to the door once again, wondering if Voldemort had spelled anymore protections into the area. "Masks on, we can't let them know our identity." Snape whispered, knowing that if the prisoners found out who they were, their covers would be ruined and they would be unable to continue working as spies if Voldemort managed to survive that night. They all put on their hoods, placed their masks upon their face, and hid who they were, and when everyone was ready, Kylie took a step forward.

Kylie brought his wand up to the keyhole and said, "Aperio," remembering that the Alohomora Spell didn't work the first time he had tried it. With a soft click, the door unlocked itself, and Kylie waved his wand and opened the door, not wanting to physically touch the wood in case it was cursed. He gasped when he saw the five prisoners, his eyes meeting Rufus Scrimgeour's angered gaze. "Is everyone okay?" He questioned in a voice that wasn't his, trying to hide who he was even more.

"Why would you care?" Scrimgeour snarled, kicking out his feet in an effort to knock Kylie to the ground. He thought that if he could just get one of them in his grasp, perhaps he would have enough leverage to bargain his way out of the dungeon, inwardly believing that they were there to torture the other prisoners.

"We're here to free you," Rosier assured them, as he ran his wand over Ollivander's shackles, freeing the great wand maker from his constraints for the first time in close to a half of a year. "We're going to get you all out of here."

Snape unshackled Rita Skeeter, and then moved over to Ludo Bagman, whose face was black and blue but still very much recognizable. After freeing the former quidditch star, Snape reached down and helped him to his feet; Bagman staggered a bit but was able to stay up on his own, unlike the older and weaker Ollivander, who needed to lean against the wall for support. "I'm okay," Ollivander coughed out when Bagman made a move to help him.

Kylie moved over to the last prisoner and unlocked Florean Fortescue's shackles, granting the wizard ice cream-maker his freedom once more. "Come on, I have a portkey that will take you all to St. Mungo's, but we need to leave the area, because there are wards preventing portkey use here." Kylie said, as he moved towards the door—he allowed Ollivander to lean on him for support so that he could walk out of the dungeon.

The five prisoners and the trio of rescuers all exited the dungeon and hurried down the hall until they reached the hallway that led to the throne room. Kylie rested Ollivander against the wall and pulled out the portkey keychain from his robes, and then held it out for all the prisoners to touch. "Ready?" He questioned as he nodded his head to Rosier and Snape, who took a step back, knowing they would be able to apparate out after the prisoners left. "Sprung," Kylie whispered, pointing his wand at the keychain. The prisoners felt a pull behind their naval and in a flash they were gone, disappearing from the Death Eater compound. Once their mission was complete and the prisoners were on their way to St. Mungo's, Kylie whisked his wand through the air and summoned a Patronus that took the shape of an osprey, his animagus form. The bird disappeared as soon as it was conjured, which left Kylie hoping that it would get to Harry in time enough for it to make a difference.

In the center of the Hogwarts battlefield, Harry was still dueling Voldemort, trying to bide his time until he got word from Kylie and Snape that the snake was dead. He jetted his wand out from his chest, and a blast of fire encircled Voldemort, creating an inferno of flames that entrapped him for a brief moment. The Dark Lord waved his wand and transformed the fire into snow that fell to the ground, which was a spectacular display of transfiguration that showed a mastery of magic that made Harry gulp in fear a bit. "If that's the best you got, I think you should just give up now." Voldemort mocked, looking at Harry in visible disgust.

"It's not." Harry said, swishing his wand and muttering a spell under his breath—some spells, regardless of the caster's proficiency in non-verbal spellwork, needed to be performed out loud, just as some spells were more powerful when performed non-verbally. Before Voldemort knew what was happening to him, he was sinking deep into the earth, the muddy ground below him having been transformed into quicksand by Harry's spell. The Dark Lord continued to sink and sink, and before long, he was up to his neck deep.

"This won't stop me." Voldemort growled, and without any wand movements or spells casted, he flew out of the quicksand with a black plume of smoke in his wake. "This is useless."

"Radix mobiliarbus!" Harry said, and immediately roots jutted out of the ground and wound their way around Voldemort's arms and legs, bringing the Dark Lord to his knees. The roots continued their pressure, managing to bend the wizard backwards so that his head was nearly bound to the ground.

"Incendio," Voldemort muttered, and the roots burned up into ashes, allowing him to get back to his feet. "Impressive," He said, and without warning, brought his wand down through the air, and a great burst of energy left his wand.

Harry was hit with a gust of wind from Voldemort's wand that sent him flying into the air, where he landed on his hands and knees on the ground after using his hands to brace his fall. As he landed, he heard a pop come from his hands, and looked down at himself, wondering what it was, but after just a second of thought, he shrugged it off as hearing things and turned his attention back to the duel. He rose to his feet, turned around, and looked on as a bolt of green light was racing straight towards him. Remembering his duel with Voldemort in the Ministry Atrium, he tried to use the same tactic to escape death that he did those months ago: he tried to summon a flock of birds to take the curse instead of himself. However, as he performed the magic, a pain flashed in his hand and his wand burned white hot. He quickly looked down to see what the problem was, and for the first time, he noticed that there was a small crack in the wood in the middle of his wand, which was presumably the pop that he heard just seconds before. "Oh, no," He said, quietly, as the green light flashed towards him and hit him square in the chest.

All the while, Lord Voldemort watched the green light of death descended upon his foe, and like what Harry did just months before when they dueled in the Ministry, he attempted to save himself through the Avis Spell. His red gaze stared at the younger wizard as Harry's eyes went wide with fear, and he quickly jetted his wand out and screamed, "Avis!" Unfortunately for Harry, the flock of birds that normally would come never did. Instead, the spell produced a yellow haze, and the green light flew through that haze, and hit him straight in the chest before he could do any more wand movements. A jubilant smirk suddenly appeared on Voldemort's face, the joy at finally overcoming his enemy filling his black heart. But then he noticed it, noticed that something was awry and not right: Harry Potter was still standing.

There was a loud gurgling sound, and then a terrifying, blood curdling scream, though neither noise was coming from Harry's mouth. It seemed to be coming from his lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, the mark that was left on him after Voldemort's Killing Curse rebounded that fateful night when Harry was a baby. That same scar connected the pair through unseen magic, a line that allowed each of them to see and sense the other's thoughts. Then, instantly, the scar erupted in blood, seemingly opening up for the first time in Harry's life. Harry fell to his knees as crimson red blood came rushing down his face; his eyes were dull, though they were not lifeless. A second or two passed with Harry on his knees before, with one last groan from his scar, he fell headfirst into the muddy snow, his eyes closed and his body unmoving.

AN: Etymology of spells that I created in this chapter-

**Radix Mobiliarbus-** Taken from the Mobilarbus spell, this adds a specific subject to the spell, in this case the roots that were around Voldemort. Radix is "root" or "source" in Latin, Mobili is "moveable" in Latin, and Arbus is "tree" in Latin.

**Glacium-** Turns the floor in a specified area into ice. It comes from the English words "glacier" and "gum," which usually sticks to the floor and then your shoe.

**Penetrare-** Penetrates a magically created barrier, whether created by the Shield Charm or by other spells/curses. It comes from the Italian word "Penetrare," meaning to penetrate, to enter, or to pass through.


	40. Three, Four, Better Run for the Door

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: In case anyone was wondering, Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun is coming along nicely.

S/N 2: And with this chapter, the subplots are mostly all wrapped up, barring one which will be finished in the final chapter. The story was always leading up to this chapter, since just about day one. I had originally intended for this to be the last chapter, but I had an idea for one more chapter so I ran with it. So this will be the second to last chapter, plus a short epilogue. The final chapter will explain a lot, I think.

Chapter 40: Three, Four, Better Run for the Door

The Dark Lord Voldemort stared at Harry Potter's unmoving body with a large, vicious smirk on his chalk-colored face, a feeling of relief engulfing him for finally conquering his foe. He basked in his glory for a short while until, from his left, a Killing Curse flew at him, which forced him to quickly spin on his heels and dodge it. "You're going to pay for that," Kingsley Shacklebolt screamed in righteous anger, brandishing his wand as he and Minerva McGonagall ran towards the Dark Lord, intent on avenging their fallen leader.

"You think you can beat Lord Voldemort?" Voldemort spat, grinning wildly and madly, knowing that without Potter there to help them, the Order of the Phoenix didn't stand a chance against him. "Good to see you again, Minerva, it's been such a long time."

"Hmph," Minerva grunted, blocking the curse that Voldemort had sent at her with a flick of her wand. She remembered back to the time when she had attended Hogwarts with the handsome and brilliant Tom Riddle: she was a year older than he was and was a second year when he had entered Hogwarts, but by the time she was in her seventh year, he was much more powerful than she was. Admittedly, she was quite fond of Tom during their years at Hogwarts together, having been hoodwinked into thinking he was a different person just like the rest of the school was, barring Albus Dumbledore, who was never tricked.

"What's the matter," Voldemort mocked, staring straight at the older witch with his crimson red eyes. He tossed a curse towards the pair, and cackled when they were thrown to the ground in the resulting explosion. "You don't like reunions as much as I do? I just love them; after all, I'm sure the people I kill are happy to be reunited with their dead loved ones."

"Enough!" A loud voice boomed, unmistakably Harry's voice. "This is my fight."

The battle behind and around the center of the lawn seemed to abruptly stop, all eyes having turned to Harry and Voldemort—Voldemort himself was looking at Harry with wonder and fear. Harry's body twitched for a second, and then it did the impossible: as if he wasn't just hit with the Killing Curse, as if he was a man un-killable, as if he was an immortal who walked the Earth, Harry rolled over onto his back and wiped the blood that was pouring out of his scar away with his sleeve. He looked up at his sleeve and sighed when he saw the amount of blood that was there, surprised that his scar was bleeding so profusely.

"Impossible." Voldemort muttered in what seemed to be fear, taking a half of step backwards, away from Harry. He raised his wand, staring at Harry with his cold, scarlet eyes, and his outstretched arm shook a little, almost unnoticeably. He watched in horrorstricken fascination as Harry got back to his feet, and then immediately reached into his robes and pulled out a long black wand. Without wasting any time, Harry chanted a curse, waved his wand, and sent a blast of dark magic straight at the Dark Lord.

Flabbergasted by what was happening, Voldemort only managed a feeble defense, and was scorched on his left arm as a result, though he didn't seem to notice. As he stared at Harry with his mouth agape, a silver Patronus in the shape of a bird appeared out of nowhere and flew high above the battlefield, before landing a few feet away from Harry. It opened its beak wide and said in Kylie's voice, "The snake is dead."

Harry looked over to Voldemort, who was staring back at Harry with wide eyes, clearly unnerved by what was transpiring. "It's just you and me now, Tom, everyone else and everything else is in the past." Harry whispered with a tone to his voice that Voldemort had never heard from him before—it was a mix of Dumbledore's wisdom and Harry's anger. At the same time, it was both, yet neither, which befuddled Voldemort a bit.

"What…the past?" Voldemort muttered, confusedly, as he whipped his wand through the air and released a curse. Harry dodged it, and returned the attack, sending back a yellow curse even faster and more powerful than he could have done with his old wand. It sailed over the Dark Lord's head, but the force was so great that it required Voldemort to firmly stand his ground or else face being knocked to the ground like the wind would do to somebody during a hurricane.

"The past has a lot of power, Tom." Harry said, taking a step closer to the Dark Lord. He knew that he was getting under Voldemort's skin like he had planned, he just needed to pry a little deeper to completely unhinge the Dark Lord. "It sheds light on things that can make or break our lives. Like a reporter digging into the past to find the skeletons in a respected wizard's closet, a person can crumble because of the things that happened in the past. It's what made you fearful of Albus Dumbledore, because he met you when you were just a mean little boy in that muggle orphanage; he knew who you were, he knew your heritage, something that you tried to keep hidden from the rest of the wizarding world. In your own past, you gave me the power to match your own, a fact that is now haunting you. You marked me as your equal, just as the prophecy said you would: a prophecy that is now coming to fruition. Never overlook the past, Tom."

"Do not call me by that filthy muggle's name!" Voldemort screeched, making Harry smile at succeeding in his plan to anger Voldemort so much that he wouldn't be able to concentrate for the duel.

And with that, Harry used the Elder Wand to his advantage, sending curse after curse at the Dark Lord. He flourished the wand with renewed vigor, whipping it around as orange energy formed at its tip. Then, with a jerk of his hand, the energy left, and zoomed at the Dark Lord with tremendous speed. "It's over, Tom!" Harry screamed out, his eyes locked in a steely green gaze that showed more focus and reserve than they had ever showed before.

The spell that Harry used was the Bombardment Jinx, which was also known as the Cannonball Curse, and was an ancient spell that was precursor to and basis of many other spells, the main one being the Statum Throwback Charm. It was impossibly old and all but forgotten, with most wizarding folk of the world having evolved their magic with the newer spells that had been created over the last few hundred years. The jinx sent out a sphere of energy, akin to a muggle cannonball, that physically crashed into an opponent or their defenses, destroying or knocking back anything that was in its way. Unlike the Blasting Curse or other like charms, the Bombardment Jinx didn't blow up the intended target, only bludgeoned it: though, if the object had weak enough defenses to be destroyed, it would seem as if it was blown up.

Voldemort's eyes went wide as the orange curse rushed towards him, too close to counter. It hit him square in the chest, sailing him fifteen feet into the air, where he landed on the slick, icy and muddy ground with a crunch, breathing heavily. Then, a few seconds later, another orange ball hit him in the chest, pushing him further into the ground, creating an indenture of his body and making him scream out in pain. Pain. For the first time in a long time, he felt it: Lord Voldemort was hurt.

He was very hurt. "Something is wrong," Voldemort whispered to himself, though he didn't know what it was. His magic somehow felt different than what he was used to feeling for the past twenty years, but he couldn't exactly place what was different about it.

"There are no more Horcruxes to save you." Harry spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, though Voldemort heard him clearly. "It's just you and me now, and neither can live while the other survives. One of us is about to leave this world forever."

"This…this is not possible." Lord Voldemort gasped out, reaching down to his ribs. "My body should be made of dead bone, like an Inferius', it should feel no pain." His mind drifted back to the night that he performed the ritual that restored his body, trying to figure out what went wrong, what had happened that ruined his well crafted plan.

_"__**Bone of the father, unknowingly taken. Flesh of the servant, willingly given. Blood of the foe, forcefully stolen." **__Voldemort hissed, before allowing Barty to dunk him into the fiery liquid. Voldemort vanished below the surface, his frail body hitting the bottom of the cauldron with a soft thud._

_"Drown you disgusting ferret." Moody growled from his place against the headstone. Barty sent him a look, as to quiet the aged wizard, but otherwise ignored the comment. Apprehensively, half of Moody's attention was on the ritual with his real eye, while his other swirled in it's socket, looking for a way out, a way to alert Albus Dumbledore that Voldemort was about to return._

_Crouch was speaking; his voice was strong and confident, with an air of excitement in it. He raised his wand into the air and spoke to the night. "Bone of the father, unknowingly taken, you will renew your son!" The surface of the grave at Moody's feet cracked, opening a thin crevice in the hard ground. Curious, Moody watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Crouch's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the liquid sparked and gurgled, turning a poisonous-looking blue color._

_Barty gave a sadistic smirk as he pulled out a long, thin, shinning silver dagger from inside his black cloak. "Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!" He stretched his left hand out in front of him, gripped the dagger tightly with his right, and swung it upwards. Barty bit down on his lip as a wave of pain overtook him, blocking his mind from thinking about anything but his severed hand that fell to the ground, limp. Crouch panted a little, picking up his hand and dropping it into the blue liquid with a sickening splash. The potion turned into a burning red as soon as the flesh entered the morbid stew._

_Moody watched as Crouch wrapped a piece of cloth around his stub, grabbed the dagger from the ground, and tramped over towards him. Then, stopping just a foot before the Auror, Crouch called into the night. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly stolen, you will resurrect your foe!" Not being able to put up a fight due to the ropes, he grimaced as Crouch ran the silver dagger down his left arm, creating a line of blood that rushed out of the wound. Crouch held a glass vial up to the cut, allowing the trickle of blood to fall into it. Then, staggering back to the cauldron, Barty poured the blood into the cauldron. The liquid within instantly turned into a blinding white. His job done, Crouch fell to the ground, his back against a headstone, cradling his stump of an arm._

"It was supposed to be forcefully, not forcibly! And it was supposed to be foe, not enemy, Barty Crouch!" Voldemort growled in fury, blaming Barty for his own mistake, unknowingly having said the wrong thing himself. "You weak, pathetic fool, you screwed up!" He seethed, his eyes glowing a powerful shade of red.

"Tom, can you hurry and get up already?" Harry mocked, the Elder Wand making his confidence grow exponentially. He had never felt anything like it before; it gave him so much power, so much energy, it exploded his senses and multiplied his magic—all of it was his.

Voldemort struggled to his feet; his left hand rubbing his ribs, while his right hand weakly gripped his wand. Then, suddenly, there was a pain in his head and his eyes went dark, and he found himself in Harry's body, seeing things from the younger wizard's point of view. He stared at his own body for a second, but before he could comprehend what was happening, he was back in his own body. "What was that?" He questioned to himself, his mind becoming cloudier and cloudier with each passing moment. Things were spiraling out of control for him quickly, and if he didn't get it together, he knew that his life would be in serious danger.

_The link between us will take another few minutes to dissipate completely just as Albus thought, perhaps I can use this as an advantage_, Harry thought to himself, after experiencing a brief moment in Voldemort's body. "I take it your Death Eaters never told you about the Gringotts break-in, did they?" He grinned when he saw Voldemort's surprised reaction. "You see, that's the thing about ruling people in fear, they tend to not be very…efficient." He opined, before resuming the duel between the two.

As the pair dueled, Voldemort's mind drifted off to what was happening to him. His body was tearing itself apart due to the mistake that was made during the ritual that night that he was reborn, but why now, why here? He had gone months without there being any such reactions like he was feeling now. _Unless…my Horcruxes truly are gone…and without them, my magic cannot sustain my body_, he thought to himself, believing for the first time that what Harry had said was true. The night that his soul was torn from his body the first time, he felt such undeniable and unbearable pain—pain that he never wanted to feel again. So, to prevent falling to what he deemed such a trivial human weakness, he crafted a body that would be cold and desensitized to pain. However, with his Horcruxes destroyed and unable to stabilize his mutilated soul anymore, his spirit couldn't handle his body failing like it was, which created a state of being that made his soul instinctively reach out in a way to save itself. As such, every time he closed his eyes he would enter Potter's mind; every time he blinked, he would see what Harry saw, feel what Harry felt. But then, there was Harry himself, as well, who somehow was using what was happening to Voldemort to his advantage, somehow drawing Voldemort into his own mind to confuse the Dark Lord.

Near the Hogwarts doors, Rabastan Lestrange sighed as a witch's dead body fell to the ground, lifeless. He neither knew nor cared for who it was; just that she was dead was all that mattered. She had put up a good fight for a mudblood, but in the end, her power and magic were nothing compared to a pureblood: or, at least that's what he was supposed to think, supposed to feel. Instead, he felt nothing, as if he was dead inside—a feeling that he had had since he was thrown into Azkaban all those years ago. With his shoulders slumped, and his breathing slowed, he gazed about the battlefield, his brown eyes seemingly looking for something or someone. Blasts, curses, and debris flew through the air, making the beautiful Hogwarts grounds (this was his first time viewing them in person) look like a madhouse: a place of death and pain, instead of learning and laughter as the Founders' intended it to be. As other members of the Order made their way to him for a duel, he saw them in the distance—his son, Despereaux Barnaud, fighting his insane aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Despereaux ducked under a curse, sending one straight back at the black-haired witch, hoping to end the duel soon. She was, admittedly, a better witch than he was wizard, having twenty years more experience, albeit with some of those years locked away in Azkaban. Though he was no slouch in magic, he feared, and rightly so, that if it was an extended, drawn-out battle, it would end badly for him, so he wanted to end the fight as fast as he could. Even with those intentions of Despereaux, Bellatrix seemed to block and parry whatever he sent at her and then returned curses and jinxes expertly. Then, that's when it happened: he tripped over a dead body he did not see and then slipped on the blood-soaked icy grass, and a brown ball-like curse that was meant to turn a person's bones into gelatin hit him square in the chest a second later, sending him flying across the ground, where he landed with a thud and a sickening crack of the ribs.

Laughing maniacally, Bellatrix inched towards her prey, the downed Despereaux. "Time to erase the blood traitors from my family—the Lestrange name will be pruned of disgusting things like you after your death." She stopped ten feet in front of him and whipped her wand, releasing the green sphere of energy that would take Despereaux's life.

"Despereaux!" Rabastan screamed, banishing one of the tree stumps that were left from the giants' destruction into the Killing Curse's projection. He ran, quickly and swiftly, towards his son, blocking Despereaux's bruised and battered body from the ensuing explosion. Rabastan checked his son's body over, making sure he wasn't severely hurt, before getting to his feet and turning to Bellatrix with a hate filled gaze. "You tried to kill my son." Despereaux opened his left eye at what his father had said, his right one being too bruised to see out of, and watched the exchange, as a small, bloody smile appeared on his face.

"He got in my way." Bellatrix sneered back with a shrug, gripping her wand tightly. She knew what was about to come, and she was ready for it—she would destroy everyone in her family if she had to in order to secure their purity and loyalty to the Dark Lord.

"You ruined my life." Rabastan replied, finally accepting the fact that his whole entire life had been one giant mistake: other than his wife Solange and his son Despereaux, he'd done everything bad and nothing good in his life. "But, even worse than that, you almost ended my son's. And that…that is something I can not accept." Rabastan said, lowly, the anger building up inside him, nearing the bursting point. "I did what you and my brother ordered me to, everything you ever asked, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?" He screamed out, earning the attention of everyone in his vicinity. "You're done!" He yelled out, releasing a brown curse at the witch, the same curse she had hit Despereaux with just minutes before, starting the battle in full.

"You think you can beat me, blood traitor? You'll pay for betraying my lord and our family!" Bellatrix snarled, blocking the curses that Rabastan sent her way with a quick flick of her wand.

Meanwhile, Sirius rolled below a curse as he dueled Voldemort's right hand man, Barty Crouch, Jr. They had been fighting one another since Sirius had stunned Pettigrew, and were deeply engrossed, though Sirius could tell Barty was devoting some of his attention to Voldemort every once and awhile. Harry, it would seem, was giving Voldemort a better fight than Barty ever imagined, and the Death Eater was either worried for his master or making sure the he didn't have to retreat. Sirius didn't mind, however, for even with his prodigious skill and cleverness, Barty was a somewhat better wizard, though by no means out of Sirius' league: any advantage Sirius had was a happy coincidence.

All the way on the other side of the grass, near the lake, Remus was dueling Antonin Dolohov. It was a duel in which the werewolf was barely keeping up—his leg had been gashed open by a curse a few minutes before, preventing him from fighting to the best of his ability. Bolt after bolt of dark magic raced towards Lupin, making the man roll and dive just to stay alive. Luckily for Remus, in the black water of the lake, mermaids and mermen were throwing spears at the assorted Death Eaters that were near enough to the lake, making the wizards block the primitive oncoming attack, including Dolohov. Just then, Remus threw out his wand in a twisting motion, releasing a yellow sphere, which blocked an oncoming pink curse that Dolohov had thrown; the two curses collided into one another, ricocheting away, where they crashed into a boulder off to the side.

Dolohov mumbled something, slashed his hand through the air and a purple curse zigzagged out of his wand, looking a lot like lightning. He smiled as the lightning-like purple curse raced towards Remus, believing it to be nearly impossible for the werewolf to avoid. "Have fun with that," Dolohov cackled arrogantly, watching the curse as it flew towards its intended victim.

"Protego Dirigible!" Remus recited, as he dodged towards to the side of the slowed curse; the curse hit the Specified Shield Charm, which granted the werewolf enough time to move away from certain death before the curse flew past him. "I've heard about that curse, Dolohov." Remus scowled, knowing that was the curse that forced Nymphadora to have a miscarriage a few months prior. "It causes a person to have the feeling of being struck with a blunt blade, without them having any noticeable effects externally, only internally. If you hit them in the chest, they'd be lucky to survive."

"I see you did your homework." Dolohov said with a slight bow, clearly mocking Remus. "I created it just for freaks like you."

Remus growled and sent a jinx at Dolohov, who managed to duck out of the way, before sending another curse towards Remus. _Should it be_ _Expulso or Confringo_, Remus questioned to himself, trying to decide which spell to use. "Confringo!" Remus yelled, directing his wand at the ground underneath Antonin's feet. Snow, dirt, and dead grass flew up into the air immediately, sending Dolohov sprawling across the ground, nearly twenty feet away from where he once stood. He got to his feet with a scowl, staring angrily at Remus with narrowed eyes, not realizing that he was standing directly in the middle of an ongoing duel. There was a flash from his left hand side, and in a second, he was hit with a curse from a Death Eater; he then crumpled to the ground with a sickening scream, unmoving.

A hundred feet away from Remus, Cedric was dueling Voldemort's left hand man, Quirinus Quirrell. While Quirrell was a decently powerful wizard, Cedric was filled with righteous anger over everything that had happened in their fight against Voldemort, which fueled his magic and allowed him to surpass Quirrell. As such, Quirrell was barely hanging on, having to dodge, duck, and shield himself from Cedric's ongoing barrage of curses, jinxes, and hexes. Cedric jabbed his wand out like it was a knife, and a blast of flames immediately left its tip, catching Quirrell's robes in flames. Quickly, Quirrell squashed the flames out with his wand, leaving his left leg slightly burned, which would be extremely detrimental to his fighting abilities.

"Looks like you won't be able to dodge anymore, Quirrell." Cedric whispered with a smile, realizing that the duel would be coming to an end soon. All he wanted to was go and help his good friend Viktor in his duel against two Death Eaters that was happening a little way away from him.

Near the Forbidden Forest, a few Aurors and Hit Wizards were guarding the perimeter, every so often engaging a Death Eater who came their way, but generally keeping their eyes firmly on the forest. As they all scanned the forest, one of them saw a line of bright white corpses walking through the trees, slowly making their way towards the battle. "Those are Inferi!" The Auror yelled out, alerting the others to what he saw.

Sure enough, an entire army of Inferi came marching out of the forest, led by a single Death Eater. With the skills they were taught during their training jumping to the front of their mind, the Aurors and Hit Wizards all raised their wands and released a blast of fire that created a line between the forest and the battle. The line served as a sort of protector, preventing the Inferi from moving any further or harming anybody with their cold, deadly hands. The Inferi backed away from the line of flames, held at bay for the time being, until the Death Eater that was leading them whipped his wand and extinguished the flames. Then, from behind the Inferi, black cloaks flew at the Aurors as a distraction, tackling them down to the ground and engulfing their faces in their thick black cloak-like bodies.

"Expecto Patronum!" A free Hit Wizard screamed out into the night, as a silver mist-like shield engulfed him, protecting him from the cloak-monsters. "Lethifolds are not immune to the Patronus Charm, remember." _How did they ever get lethifolds_, he thought to himself, succumbing to the fear that was deep inside of him, _aren't they supposed to be in warm climates?_

There was a flood of Patronuses taking shape, all chasing the lethifolds off of the Aurors that had been tackled down to the ground and back into the forest that they came from. As they all tried to regroup to fight off the oncoming Inferi, one of them noticed that an Auror was unmoving, apparently too badly injured by the lethifold that had attacked him; a few Hit Wizards rushed over to him, but unfortunately the Auror died before his comrades could help him to safety. As the battle against the Inferi reached its peak, a Hit Wizard sent a stunner at the Death Eater that was controlling the Inferi, hitting him in the chest quicker than he could turn his attention from the Inferi to protecting himself. Without a wizard to help them, the Inferi were left vulnerable to fire and as a result, they were easily corralled into a circle of flames, leaving them useless and impotent, taking them out of the raging battle.

Meanwhile, the duel between Bellatrix and Rabastan was seemingly coming to an end, as Bellatrix was forced to dodge curse after curse from Rabastan's wand. She was incredibly agile and athletic for her age, being able to back flip and cartwheel easily, and being able to roll and somersault away from any danger that came her way. She tried to close the distance between Rabastan and herself by diving onto the ground and rolling forward, but was prevented from doing that by a jinx sent from Rabastan's wand. Unfortunately, as she jumped back to her feet, she didn't see the green light of death make contact with her stomach before she was dead, hitting the ground with a loud thump—her body was cold and lifeless, and her violet eyes were still open.

"Insane nutter," Rabastan sighed, falling down onto the ground, drained of energy. As he laid on the cold earth, he stared up at the brilliant stars in the sky and gave out a cold, emotionless laugh, thinking about his life, though he didn't know exactly why he was laughing. He couldn't explain it, but in that moment, he just felt like laughing.

In the center of the field, where the battle between the Dark Lord and the leader of the Order of the Phoenix was still ongoing, Harry and Voldemort both sent curses at each other at exactly the same time, and as a result, the two bolts of magic made contact with one another in the space between Harry and Voldemort. The spells were each deflected back towards their creator, forcing Harry to quickly spin out of the way and turn his attention away from Voldemort. Voldemort meanwhile flew up into the air with a plume of black smoke trailing in his wake to avoid the attack, and landed safely a few yards away, unaffected by the curse. "That wand, tell me, where did you get it?" Voldemort questioned, his eyes fixated on the black piece of wood in Harry's hand.

"Take a wild guess," Harry replied, preparing to attack Voldemort. Without warning, Harry jutted his wand outwards and a great burst of energy left its tip, where it traveled through the ground and up underneath Voldemort's feet. The surprised Dark Lord was thrown off of his feet and into the air, and Harry immediately slashed his wand in a downwards angle. As a result, Voldemort was thrown back down onto the ground with great force and a sickening crack. Voldemort rolled over and got to his knees, before he picked himself up off of the ground, blood accumulating on the side of his lips.

Harry walked forwards, slowly and mockingly, with his wand raised in the air, pointed at Voldemort's thin body. Then, with a great jolt in his head, Voldemort closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was looking at his body from Potter's mind once more. As if possessed, he raised Potter's wand, and sent the Killing Curse at his own body, its green light sailing, swooshing through the air. It neared his body, coming terribly close to him, and then just as suddenly as before, he was in his own body again, watching as the green light zoomed at him, a little less than a foot away. Confused by what had happened, Voldemort couldn't duck or dodge, and was forced to take the jet of light into his own body.

It hit Voldemort straight in the face, his red eyes wide with fear, anger, and what Harry believed to be despair. Above all, Tom Riddle was scared to face death, and he was searching for a way to avoid it all of his life, especially in the brief moments before the Killing Curse hit him. Unlike most people, who dropped dead immediately after getting hit with the light of death, Voldemort rasped around on the ground for a few seconds, while his body glowed a sickly, unnatural green colored light. He got back to his knees, as if to rise, and at the exact same moment, Harry shot a hand up to his scar as pain erupted in his head.

Nymphadora, Broderick Bode, and Kingsley Shacklebolt all came running up to the scene when they saw Voldemort was on his knees, their eyes gaping at the sight, looking on with confusion. Harry was on his knees as well, a pain attacking his head like never before. Voldemort's body made a sound, and just as Harry regained enough attention to be able to watch what was happening, Voldemort's magic exploded outwards in a blast of dark green light, knocking all that were in a twenty yard radius down to the ground, including Tonks, who was hit by the light in the abdomen. Voldemort's body crashed to the ground, and did not move: Lord Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead.

The entire battle seemed to stop all of the sudden. Then, it was as if the Death Eaters were summoned away, because as a group they all turned and started to run for the gates of Hogwarts. There was a great rush of people as the Hit Wizards and Aurors chased after the Death Eaters, trying to prevent as many as they could from escaping. "Get them!" Gawain Robards shouted, not wanting a single Death Eater to get away and escape their punishment—he knew how many Death Eaters had gotten away without a scratch after the last war, it was an injustice that he never wanted to see happen again. Gawain's eyes flicked over to John Dawlish, who was limping towards him, apparently having hurt his left leg in the battle. "Get mediwizards here right away, there are people who can still be saved!" He said to Dawlish, who nodded and went off to perform his task.

After getting back to his feet and making sure Tonks was okay, Harry bent down and picked up his broken wand and put in inside his robes along with the Elder Wand, and then tentatively made his way towards the spot on the ground that Voldemort had crumpled onto. He stood over Voldemort's body and stared down at the fallen Dark Lord, an indifferent expression on his face. _"Rot wherever you go,"_ Harry hissed in parseltongue, inwardly happy that his parselmouth ability was his own and not a gift granted to him by Voldemort's attack as a baby that could have disappeared when his connection with Voldemort was severed. He had come to rely on his ability over the years, and to lose it would be a detriment to himself—after all, he had countless of tomes in his library that were written entirely in parseltongue that he wouldn't be able to read if he lost his ability.

Behind Harry and across the field, around ten yards away from the doors of Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom helped Despereaux Barnaud to his feet. "I'm okay," Despereaux whispered groggily, nodding his head to Neville. Despereaux looked over Neville's shoulder, and then rushed towards Rabastan, who was now standing over Bellatrix's dead body. "Pere!" Despereaux yelled out in French, gaining his father's attention as Neville ran behind him.

"Despereaux, you're okay!" Rabastan smiled, and then flicked his gaze over to Neville, who was standing next to Despereaux. "Longbottom, I trust you're all right, as well."

"What are you still doing here? You have to get going." Despereaux ordered, wanting his father to escape to safety, rather than be caught by the Aurors. While they had their differences, and he would never forgive his father for leaving him as a baby to join the Death Eaters, hearing his father defend him from Bellatrix sparked something in inside of him—instead of anger, all he felt for his father was sadness. He couldn't help but admit to himself that all this time he wasn't angry at Rabastan; he was sad, sad that he didn't know what it was like to have a father around while he grew up. However, even with that epiphany, the only reason he was allowing his father to leave was because he saved his life, as well as Neville's life numerous times. "Go." Despereaux said, pointing to the path across the way that would lead to the gates; nearly all of the Death Eaters were heading that way, trying to escape.

Neville nodded his head in agreement next to Despereaux, looking from Rabastan to Despereaux. "No one will stop you. You saved me, you saved us, and I heard you: you didn't want how your life turned out. Go, run, leave, hide and you won't be found."

"No," Rabastan said, shaking his head in the negative. "I'm not running." He dropped his wand onto the ground, and held his hands up in the air, as if he was surrendering. "I'm going back to Azkaban, paying my debt, accepting my punishment."

"But," Despereaux replied, confused, not understanding what his father was saying.

"No buts, Despereaux." Rabastan chided, giving his son a large, happy smile. "Here, take this," He said, reaching into his robes and pulling out a piece of parchment that was tightly wrapped around a bronze Gringotts' key. He had planned just two days before to eventually give the key to Despereaux that's why he secured it in his robes—he knew that handing his son the key was the right and noble thing to do. "The key is for my personal vault and it will allow you to enter the Lestrange Family vault, as well. It's yours, all of it."

"Are you sure?" Despereaux questioned, knowing just how much money the Lestranges had. They were an ancient and wealthy pureblood family, with numerous heirlooms safely locked away deep inside their vault: it would be a cache of riches of the likes that Despereaux had never seen before. While it was true that his mother was wealthy via his maternal grandfather Nicolo Barnaud, the famous alchemist, he had only seen a pittance of it, whereas the Lestrange would all be his. He was already forming ideas in his mind on what to do with the money, which he planned to spend in ways that would hopefully wipe away the stain that the Lestrange name had upon it for all time.

"It's yours." Rabastan smiled once more, before grabbing his wand off of the ground and sending a Stunning Charm at a Death Eater who was running for the gates. The light of the stunner nailed the Death Eater in the back, and he immediately fell to the ground, falling head over heels into the snow.

"Thank you," Despereaux said with a lump in his throat. He looked down at the rolled up parchment that was around the key, and quietly untied the twine and unrolled it, wanting to read what it had to say.

_Despereaux,_

_This is the key to my Gringotts Vault, the number is 898. It will also grant you access to the Lestrange Family Vault deeper down in the caverns._

_It's yours, all of it._

_Love always,_

_Rabastan _

_I'm sorry for everything._

"I love you, son." Rabastan said, as Kingsley Shacklebolt meandered over to them. "You don't have to worry about me, I'm not going anywhere. Use your time to capture all of the runners." He muttered, hoping that he would be able to spend a little more time with his son—he knew that after that, he would probably never see Despereaux again, which was something that broke his heart into pieces.

All the while, Sirius was sprinting as fast as he could towards the location that he had left Peter Pettigrew stunned. He weaved in and out of the Aurors that were running the opposite way, until he finally reached his destination. He frantically moved his gaze over the patch of land, searching for the rat, trying to find his unconscious body. "He's gone!" He screamed out after a minute of looking. "He escaped again, Remus, again!"

"We'll find him," Remus replied, slightly out of breath as he ran up to where Sirius was standing. "He couldn't have gotten far." He looked over to Sirius, and with a nod, the pair ran into the Forbidden Forest, intent on finding the rat that was their former friend. Just as they entered the forest, they saw a hooded Death Eater dashing through the trees, his wand raised in the air with a small light at its tip, illuminating the way. "Stop!" Remus yelled out, trying to catch up to the Death Eater.

The Death Eater looked back at them, and from a distance, Sirius was just able to make out who it was: Barty Crouch, Jr.—the pair had finished their duel without a winner, and after Voldemort fell, Barty ran off, leaving Sirius alone. With all the energy the pair could muster, they chased after the Death Eater, knowing that Voldemort's second in command couldn't be allowed to escape. To their right, they both heard the thundering hooves of the centaur herds, but they paid it no mind, instead focusing on their pursuit. As they ran, Sirius tripped over a log and stumbled a bit, allowing Barty to gain a little ground on the pair.

Ten minutes or so passed, with Remus and Sirius still following Barty, until a giant, eight-legged acromantula appeared before the two friends, forcing them to come to a halt. "Move out of the way," Sirius growled, trying to get by the spider so they could continue the pursuit.

"Sirius," Remus whispered, as he spun around on his heels, watching as numerous acromantulas encircled the pair. "Perhaps we should worry about ourselves, before going after Crouch or Pettigrew."

"Do you have any ideas?" Sirius questioned, realizing for the first time that they were in trouble.

"Just one," Remus muttered, grabbing his wand and twisting it through the air. "Arania Exumai!" There was a sound like a cannon shot and a burst of white light that jumped out of Remus' wand, blinding the acromantula that the wand was pointed at.

"This is our forest," The biggest acromantula said as one of his brothers was hit with the spell from Remus' wand and sent tumbling backwards on the ground. "When fresh meat comes so willingly into our home, who are we to turn it down?"

"I suggest we run!" Sirius said, as he blasted another acromantula away, which created a large gap in the circle, space enough for them to slip through. They weaved in and out of the trees as the acromantulas chased after them with their eight legs, and as they neared the forest edge, they met a group of Aurors, who were just entering. "Acromantulas!" Sirius yelled out, warning the Aurors, who had raised their wands at both Remus and Sirius, believing them to be Death Eaters.

As they exited the forest, they both let out curses of disappointment, each knowing that they would probably never see Pettigrew again. After all, why would he show himself ever again? He didn't reveal himself for twenty years during the time that Voldemort was supposedly destroyed the first time on Halloween night, and this time he has tangible proof of Voldemort's destruction. There would be no reason to even stay in the country, let alone appear as a human, when he could just hide out as a rat to avoid the Aurors and Hit Wizards that would be after him. Because of that, they both knew he was gone forever, escaping the revenge that Sirius so desired and, in some ways, deserved.

A mass of Death Eaters ran down the dirt path that would lead to Hogsmeade, rushing away from the Aurors and Hit Wizards that were chasing behind them. As the front of the group came into view of the gates, one of them tried to blast the gates apart, but the spell was deflected away by the wards that Voldemort had put on before his battle with Harry. They got closer and closer to the gates, and the Death Eater again sent a curse. Fortunately for the Death Eaters, the gates flung off their hinges this time, granting the Death Eaters an escape. However, when they entered Hogsmeade, they were met with a mixed group of Hogsmeade citizens, who were led by Aberforth Dumbledore, and various Ministry Officials who had arrived at Hogwarts late.

"Don't let them escape!" An Auror shouted from behind the group of Death Eaters, alerting the flock of wizards and witches that converged at the gates.

A small skirmish ensued, with the Death Eaters who were still within the Hogwarts anti-apparition wards desperately trying to fight their way through the Hogsmeade citizens. They dared not send Killing Curses, for fear of they themselves getting it due to the close proximity, but that didn't stop them from tossing curses and jinxes that were nearly as dark. Once the Death Eaters were clear, they disapparated away, not caring about their fellow dark wizards, only desiring to escape to freedom. Some of the Death Eaters, however, were stunned or disarmed before they ever cleared the wards, preventing them from escaping justice.

Meanwhile, as both light and dark wizards scurried about around him, Harry Potter stood in the center of the field, a blank look on his face. His wife, Nymphadora Potter, came up behind him and placed her left hand in his right, giving him a small smile as she looked up at him. "It's over." She whispered into his ear, happy to finally rid herself of the Dark Lord and the terror that he had spread about the country.

Harry stayed silent, instead just nodding his head. He stared out across the land, seeing all the dead wizarding folk who gave their lives, knowing that they would need to be honored in the future, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he focused on the now and how happy he was, so incredibly happy: happy that he had gotten his revenge for the death of his friends and parents, happy that he had stopped a menace, happy that Voldemort was finally dead, and happy that there would be no return for Voldemort this time. He once thought that he was in too deep in his fight against Voldemort, but in the end he had come out triumphant. He had weathered the storm and had met every challenge that destiny threw at him, which was a fact that made him extremely proud. Now, now he was free from all of that. For the first time in his life, he was free.

AN: Some of the spells that were in this chapter that are of my own design will be explained in more detail in my next story, Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun. This includes the "Protego Dirigible" charm that Remus used.


	41. Rise Again

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Well, this is it, the last chapter. There will also be an epilogue that will have jumps in time throughout, giving brief glimpses of the next twenty years of Harry's life.

S/N 2: I want to say thank you to all of you who have reviewed, especially the constant reviewers. They meant a lot to me, and I appreciated the feedback, good or bad. It really helped me improve my writing, much more so than anything else. This chapter should tie up any and all outstanding storylines, and in fact, as I was writing this chapter, I realized how many storylines I actually had to drop or else this story would have gone on for another twenty chapters, so you'll see hints of storylines that didn't make it into the final story.

Chapter 41: Nothing Ever Dies, We Will Rise Again

Seven days had passed since Voldemort's defeat, and over that time, the Order of the Phoenix tended to the injuries that their members had sustained, as well as attended the funerals of all those who had died in the battle. The causalities that the Order had suffered were great: Fred Weasley was a living shell of his former self; Bill Weasley was permanently disfigured and now had wolfish tendencies, such as a preference for raw meat, though according to Remus, he fortunately would not become a werewolf; after being hit with a Conjunctivitis Curse, Rubeus Hagrid had lost his left eye during his duel with Macnair, and now wore a glass eye similar to Mad-Eye Moody that allowed him to regain his vision; Terry Boot had lost his right ear to a curse that prevented the healers from reattaching it; Kylie had been so affected by the venom of Nagini that his hand now had a purplish tint to it that was permanent, though he was okay other than that; Despereaux Barnaud had a large scar across his chest that he received from his aunt Bellatrix Lestrange that was still tender to the touch; Lilyre Moon had broken both his legs, but luckily, the healers were able to restore his legs without any lasting effects; and finally, Elphias Doge and Sturgis Podmore had both lost their lives to the Killing Curse during the battle.

While the funerals and remembrances were going on for the Aurors, Hit Wizards, Ministry Officials, and Order Members, the Ministry of Magic was hunting down whatever Death Eater they could find. Many were caught within the week, but in light of the fact that so many Aurors and Hit Wizards and other Ministry Officials had lost their lives at the Hogwarts battle, no Death Eater had been tried just yet. Instead of being brought to Azkaban like they normally would have been, they were kept in the holding cells of the Ministry, giving them a temporary reprieve from the darkness of the famed wizarding prison. It wasn't until the Monday after the Battle of Hogwarts and after the Ministry had taken care of the disloyal dementors who had joined Voldemort did the trials for the Death Eaters begin.

On one of the trial days, the Hit Wizard Harry Potter was walking into courtroom number ten with his crimson robes flailing in the wind for the trial of one, Pansy Parkinson. Parkinson was charged with conspiring to commit crimes against the Ministry, for using the Unforgivables, and for aiding the Dark Lord in his conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic. After the charges were read to the visibly shaken Parkinson, who had short black hair, black eyes, and was unnaturally thin looking, she started breathing heavily, clearly frightened by the ordeal.

"What do you have to say for yourself? Or are we waiting on someone to speak on your behalf?" The Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones belted, staring down at the younger witch from her perch atop the long bench. The forty-nine other members of the Wizengamot all wore their plumb colored-robes and sat on a long bench around the Minister, with Bones acting as the Chief Warlock for the proceedings, the one member who was in charge of the Wizengamot. "Perhaps a solicitor or confidant that is familiar with your case?" Bones questioned, welcoming the chance for someone to speak for Pansy. It was customary to allow defendants to have someone speak on their behalf, though it wasn't a protected right by any means and could be suspended if the Wizengamot saw fit to suspend it.

"Draco….said….he would be coming on….my behalf." Pansy stuttered out, now nearly sobbing. Her black eyes moved all around the Wizengamot, rolling over every single member before they rested on the Minister.

"Very well," Minister Bones nodded, just as the doors in the back swung open and revealed Draco Malfoy. The blond haired wizard strolled up to the front of the room, his gray eyes locked in steely concentration. He quietly took a seat in the wooden chair next to Pansy, not even giving her a sideways glance, instead focusing on the Wizengamot in front of him. "Mr. Malfoy, we understand that you have something to say in the defense of Miss Parkinson, is that correct?"

"That is correct, Madam Minister." Draco Malfoy said, rising from his seat and walking up closer to the long bench. From his spot behind Gawain Robards, Harry flinched at the appearance of Draco, his green gaze zeroing in on the blond haired wizard, wishing that he knew what Draco was going to say before he said it. "I have proof that Pansy Parkinson is innocent. I witnessed the night that she was attacked and cursed with the Unforgiveable Imperious Curse, and I am witness to the fact that everything she did as a Death Eater after that night was against her will."

"And what proof is that?" Rufus Scrimgeour questioned, scowling deeply, overcome with frustration. After what he had gone through, he had no mercy for anyone who was a Death Eater, and, if he was in charge, he would send them straight to Azkaban without even hearing them out.

"I was there when it happened, her being cursed I mean—I managed to escape, but Pansy wasn't as lucky as I was. I am more than willing to subject myself to whatever means necessary in order to prove the truthfulness of my testimony." Draco answered, staring straight at Scrimgeour, lying right to his face. For the first time, his eyes flicked over to Pansy, who was looking back over to him, her hands and feet still clasped tightly in the chair. "I tried to find her, to help her, but the Death Eaters hid her away from me, unfortunately, which prevented me from doing anything."

"Why did you not come forward before this time?" A witch questioned from the far end of the bench, seeing a small crack in his story that perhaps would lead to a complete unraveling.

"I was scared," Draco replied simply, looking down at the ground in faux embarrassment, dodging the question stupendously. After all, who would question someone who was willingly admitting something as embarrassing as that? "I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is. I heard that the Death Eaters wanted my family to die, so I hid away and waited until the Ministry came out triumphantly in their struggle against the dark forces, all the while hoping that Pansy would be okay. Plus, and this I'm ashamed to admit but I will say it because it's the truth, I was also wary of going to the Ministry during those times because my father told me stories of how Augustus Rookwood betrayed the Ministry during the first war—I was fearful that the Death Eaters had infiltrated the Ministry like last time, though now I see that the Ministry is as powerful and as noble as ever. I was cowardly in my actions, and for that I am truly, deeply sorry, but Pansy should not be punished for my inaction."

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," The Minister said, shuffling around a few pages of parchment in front of her. "We will take your testimony into account and keep it in our minds when we make our final judgment. We would also like to say thank you for your generous donation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that you gave two days ago, it will surely help countless of students afford books and grant them the ability to attend school, as well as helping in the reconstruction of one of the towers that was destroyed in the battle."

"In addition to that, I would like also to announce that I am making another donation to St. Mungo's Hospital for a sum total of one thousand galleons, with the hopes that they will be able to use that money to heal all those people who were injured in the righteous fight against the Dark Lord." Draco proclaimed, giving them all a large, charming smile. There was a loud round of applause in response, some coming from the Wizengamot, but most from the spectators behind Draco, who were smitten by his generosity. Harry rolled his eyes, but had to admit that he was impressed with Draco's ability to manipulate people—a trait he surely inherited from his father. "Thank you for your time." Draco turned and, after giving one last look to Pansy, he walked out of the court room.

Harry quietly excused himself, and ran outside into the hallway to catch Draco before the wizard left. "Malfoy!" He yelled, and the other wizard paused in response, but did not turn around. "You put me in a difficult position with that stunt of yours. I am a man of my word, and I promised that your name would not be brought up in the Death Eater trials, but if you do that one more time, the deal is off and I will tell everyone the truth about your history with the Death Eaters."

"Don't worry, I won't." Draco replied, still keeping his back to Harry. "You think I care about anyone else? Crabbe? Goyle? Cornfoot? Flint? Montague? They can all rot in Azkaban, for all I care. Pansy didn't deserve that, though—I was the one who got her into this. She might have been mean to you in Hogwarts, maybe even seemed like she cared about blood purity, but she didn't: she did all those things because she wanted to impress me, she thought I wanted her to act like that."

"I see," Harry whispered, having never known about Draco's feelings for the girl. Without saying another word, Harry returned to the courtroom and stood in the back of the room as the Wizengamot decided if Pansy was guilty or innocent. In an almost overwhelming majority, they deemed that Pansy was innocent and free to go, a decision that mad Harry a little bit angry, though he knew it wasn't worth doing anything about it due to the bad recognition that he would get if Malfoy revealed that Harry had made a deal with a Death Eater. Plus, Pansy wasn't that good of a witch to begin with, and he seriously doubted that she could cast any of the Unforgivables, let alone use them successfully against innocent people.

Pansy was soon released, and everyone filed out of the courtroom for the day, with Harry returning to his home soon after. Tonks was out with her mother, so after saying hello to Zeali, he quietly made his way up to his workshop and took a seat at his stool. He pulled out the golden Slytherin locket, which was burned to the point it was almost destroyed, and began to poke at it with the Elder Wand. He wanted to fix it as best as he could, though he had no idea if he would be able to. He knew that he would never be able to replicate the magic that Slytherin had charmed into it because he had no idea what spells were originally used a thousand years ago, but he could sure as well try, at least.

"I'm home!" Tonks' voice called out through the halls an hour later, alerting both Zeali and Harry of her presence.

"I'm up here," Harry yelled back, not looking up from the locket. He had made a little progress over the time working on the locket, albeit even the progress he made was almost unnoticeable due to the amount of damage that the artifact had sustained.

"Harry," Tonks said, coming to the door. Her hair was a dull maroon, and her eyes were their normal color, which was a rare treat for Harry. "I know things have been so busy lately, but…can we talk? I want to ask you something."

"Sure," Harry nodded, turning his attention from his work desk to his wife.

"What happened? I mean, when you were…when you were unconscious," She started, not daring to say dead, she couldn't bear even the idea of Harry dying. "What happened?" She inquired, referencing the night of the Battle of Hogwarts.

"It was like I was asleep," Harry remembered, thinking back to the feeling that he had encountered after he was hit with the Killing Curse. "And I met a friend."

"Who?" Tonks questioned, interested in who it was. Was it someone that she knew? It couldn't have been his father or mother, could it? Was the person dead or alive? Was it a spirit that he met? A thousand questions ran through her mind, though she knew she wouldn't get answers to all of them.

"Just a friend," Harry replied, not wanting to go any deeper than that just yet.

"Oh," Tonks nodded, understanding that Harry wasn't ready to talk about it. Her eyes flicked down to the wand in his hands, and she bit her lip, another thought coming to her mind. "About the Elder Wand, since you were hit with a Killing Curse, shouldn't you have lost its allegiance, and it therefore shouldn't have worked for you, right? Isn't that how it's supposed to work?"

"No," Harry shook his head in the negative. "I wasn't fighting back before then, hence there was no contest, and hence there was no defeat." Harry answered, simply, having previously gone through it in his own mind before he prepared for his battle against Voldemort—he was prepared, more prepared for that fight than he had ever been. Before he was hit with the Killing Curse, he was simply stalling, buying time; he wasn't actually trying to defeat Voldemort. Because of that, he was able to keep the allegiance of the wand, instead of losing it like what would normally have happened if had been truly fighting back.

"Well, if that's the case, then don't you think that now that Voldemort is gone, you should, I don't know, keep that wand locked away?" She said, getting to what she really wanted to talk about. She didn't want people to come after Harry to try and get the Elder Wand; she didn't want to fend off daily attacks all because Harry had the supreme wand of the land. "After all, if you die a natural death in a hundred fifty years, wouldn't it prevent anyone from using it ever again? Its power would be broken, wouldn't it? You wouldn't have been beaten in a duel, after all."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head impressed with what Tonks knew about wandlore. "I never understood that concept: that the wand's power dies if its owner dies naturally. How would that make any sense? Antioch Peverell, the original owner of the wand, was never beaten in a duel, was he? No, he was killed in his sleep: there was no contest. Ownership of the wand should have never transferred in the first place; it should have been destroyed right then and there. But ownership did transfer, and continued to transfer all the way up to and including myself. I reckon that, even if I'm never defeated, and the wand is inherited, the wand will grow over time into a new owner if someone else physically possesses the wand, meaning regardless of what I do with it, someone else will eventually become the owner of the full power of the wand."

"If you say so," Tonks nodded, bowing to Harry's knowledge on the subject. "What about your other wand? We have to get you a new one, don't we?" She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the piece of black wood that was sitting on the workbench. There was a small crack in the center that would go unnoticed if one didn't previously know about it, but was definitely large enough to backfire on the wand holder if it was used to perform magic.

"Maybe," Harry shrugged, grabbing the Elder Wand. "Or, maybe not," He smiled, running the Elder Wand over his broken wand. "Reparo," He whispered, and in a flash, the crack in the wood closed, the wood went rigid once more, and his broken wand was repaired like new.

"What?" Tonks gasped, flabbergasted by what just happened. "How did you do that? I thought it was impossible to repair a wand when it's been broken."

"It's apparently not impossible if you have the Elder Wand in your possession to enhance your magic." Harry grinned, thrilled to have his normal wand back. He opened up the top drawer of his bench, and placed the Elder Wand back in its protection, right next to the Peverell Ring that held the Resurrection Stone, which rested in between Ravenclaw's Tiara and Hufflepuff's Goblet.

"What are you going to do with all of those?" Tonks inquired, quizzically, raising an eyebrow as she peeked an eye into the drawer.

"We'll give them to our children," Harry said, getting up from his stool and bringing his lips up to Tonks'.

Tonks enthusiastically kissed Harry back, a feeling of love overcoming her. They continued for a few moments, until Tonks pulled back and smiled up at her husband. "Oh, I meant to tell you, I found this out in the hallway." She chirped, running over to the couch in the library, where she picked up a small box and brought it back over to Harry in the workshop. "Do you know what this is?"

"I forgot all about that!" Harry exclaimed, remembering the package that Grindelwald had sent him before his fight with Voldemort. He took the box from her hands and pulled out the piece of white parchment with the golden boarder. He looked down at the parchment, knowing exactly what it was, but not knowing what he was going to do with it: he could use it or he could throw it away. "I guess I owe him," He whispered, seemingly coming to a conclusion as he picked up his newly fixed wand.

"Owe who, what?" Tonks asked, slightly confused by not only what Harry meant, but what it was in the first place.

"You don't want to know," Harry grinned, looking up at his wife. "Grindelwald."

Tonks cocked an eyebrow but stayed silent, which surprised Harry a bit, having expected some sort of response from his wife. "You have fun with that, meanwhile I'm going to take a shower and get changed," She replied, turning around and walking out of the library, leaving Harry alone to his own devices.

"Where is a good spot?" He muttered, before he found a spot near the small shelf of potions that he kept in his main workroom, rather than the potion room. He brought his wand up and ran it over the parchment, before sticking the parchment onto the wall. Then, Harry tapped the center of the parchment two times, and took a step back as the parchment grew and grew, transforming into a canvas with a golden frame. It expanded until it was about the size of a large pillow, and then colors began to appear on the canvas from out of nowhere, as if there was an invisible painter painting his masterpiece right then and there. The colors merged and converged until they showed an old man standing in front of a fire place that had a small, plush chair painted next to it. Harry could only see the old man's back, his grey hair coming down to the small of his back. "Hello, Gellert." He whispered once the portrait had completely formed.

"I take it you decided to keep my portrait, eh?" The old man said, his eastern European-accented voice carrying out from the frame. "And here I half expected you to destroy it."

"You played me, didn't you?" Harry questioned, though his voice did not show any form of unhappiness. "This was always what you wanted in the end, was it not?"

"Played, no, but I did have a plan—always did." Gellert replied, still keeping his back to Harry. Finally, he turned around, and smiled at the younger wizard as he walked forward in his portrait a bit: he appeared younger than when Harry had seen him last, apparently having settled for a younger appearance in his portrait when it was painted.

"Well," Harry answered, honestly. "I don't have very many portraits in my house, only your ancestor's, so you'll be quite lonely when your ancestor is in his Hogwarts portrait."

"Its fine, all that I wanted at the end of my life was to experience life as a portrait when my mortal body was gone." Gellert nodded, telling Harry the honest truth. "Did you defeat Voldemort yet?"

"Yup," Harry beamed, so happy to finally have overcome his lifelong enemy. He had been so busy grieving and honoring his fallen friends over the past week that he didn't have the time to just stop and reflect on Voldemort's defeat, which was something he planned on doing soon.

"Good, good." Gellert nodded again, though Harry could tell he was a bit indifferent about it all, which was to be expected, being that he had flat out told Harry he was only helping him due to Dumbledore's death.

"It was all because of the Elder Wand." Harry noted, finally admitting to Grindelwald that he had the Elder Wand.

Gellert's eyes shot to Harry, wide with a mix of confusion, jealousy, and doubt. "You had it?" He exclaimed, keeping an air of skepticism around him, not knowing if the younger wizard was telling the truth or not.

"Yes, and I want to thank you for lying to Voldemort when he came looking for the wand." Harry replied, a large smile on his face, somewhat toying with Grindelwald. "I know you did it to protect Dumbledore's grave, but still, it helped me as well."

Gellert stared at Harry for a few seconds more, seemingly trying to find something in Harry's green eyes. "You have them all, don't you?" He whispered, apparently finding what it was that he was searching for in Harry's soul.

"Yes," Harry simply said, giving Gellert a slight nod. "Your portrait is in my workshop, and if anyone asks, you're not Gellert Grindelwald, got it?"

"I understand," Gellert said, taking a seat in his chair, looking as if someone had shot him in the chest. He sat silently for a few moments before suddenly, a smile started to creep onto his face and then he cried out into laughter, making Harry cock an eyebrow up to him. "It was my lifelong dream to unite the three Deathly Hallows, and now here I am, hanging up on the wall of the man who has done it, accomplishing something that I never could."

The next day, Harry found himself in the courtroom number ten once more. Like during the trials of the previous day, he was standing up behind the Wizengamot, specifically behind Gawain Robards, who was wearing the distinct plum robes of the Wizengamot. A few Aurors stood next to him, there to make sure that the Wizengamot were protected from any threat they might face: whether it be from a family member of the accused and convicted or even the convicted themselves. Just then, Rabastan Lestrange was dragged in by the dementors that then handed him over to two Aurors, who locked him into a wooden chair in front of the bench.

"Rabastan Lestrange, you have waived your right to be represented, is that correct?" Minister Bones said, and after seeing the man's nod, she continued on. "You have been brought before us for your continued following of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and your previous escape from Azkaban Prison, in which you were imprisoned for your unspeakable crimes against Frank and Alice Longbottom." Minister Bones said, looking down at Rabastan. "What do you have to stay for yourself?"

Rabastan stared at the ground, before looking up, his eyes showing despair. "I always thought the most important thing in life was to honor the family, to live up to the expectations that your father and family have for you. I was wrong; my whole life I've been wrong, and it's entirely my fault. I should have stayed in France with my wife, and most importantly, with my son." He moved his gaze over the Wizengamot, meeting Harry's gaze for a moment before returning back to the Minister. "The Dementor's Kiss is not punishment enough for what I have done. Send me to Azkaban, away from my son, that'll be more punishing than losing my soul could ever be. Knowing that I failed the only people that I ever cared about, that is my true punishment, no matter what you decide my fate will be."

Harry leaned down, and whispered into Gawain Robards' ear, something that he had promised Neville and Despereaux that he would do. The older man nodded, leaned behind Rufus Scrimgeour, and whispered over to Minister Bones, who paused to think over what she had heard. "Right," She nodded, understanding the situation. "I have recent information that you caught a few of your former comrades, is that correct? Furthermore, you have saved one, Neville Longbottom's life, on more than one occasion?"

"I guess so." Rabastan shrugged, not knowing what to make of this development.

"Well," Minister Bones said, slowly, trying to properly articulate what she was thinking. "I will take that into consideration, but because you have been previously convicted, I do not know how much weight that your deeds will have on this process. Those who are in favor of a guilty verdict, please raise your hands?" Out of the fifty Wizengamot members, nine of which were the jurors of the day, all of the members raised their hands, including the nine of the jurors.

In order to prevent corruption, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot chose nine of the members to be jurors, though no one but the Chief Warlock knew who the nine of the trial were until after the trial itself. Only in the rarest of circumstances, where the non-jury Wizengamot members vote differently than the nine members does the Chief Warlock release the information about the jurors and take into account the entire Wizengamot's opinion. "A guilty verdict has been handed down on you, Mr. Lestrange. With the power of the Wizengamot, your sentence of life in Azkaban is reinstated, Rabastan Lestrange, effective immediately."

At once, the dementors that were loyal to the Ministry flew back in, unlocked the wooden chair and began to drag Rabastan back out. As he was leaving, his eyes saw his wife, Solange, and his son, Despereaux, each sitting in one of the back rows, both watching sadly as he was pulled away. He gave them a small smile, hoping that they would forgive him sooner or later, before he was dragged through the doors and out of the room. Once he was gone, Solange let out a solitary tear, wondering what could have been.

"We now call Quirinus Quirrell," Minister Bones yelled, gesturing for the Aurors to notify the dementors to bring in the next prisoner. Before long, Quirrell was dragged in and slammed into the wooden chair, locked in place. "Is anyone coming to speak on your behalf, Mr. Quirrell?" Quirrell stayed silent, instead just staring up at the Wizengamot with blank, unemotional eyes. "Let the record show that Mr. Quirrell's silence is an answer of negative, and that we shall move on." Harry's gaze moved over to the scribe, Devan Fenwick, son of Benjy Fenwick, a former member of the Order of the Phoenix who died during the first war, who was scribbling down hurriedly everything that the Minister said. "As a top Death Eater, what can you tell us about the whereabouts of one, Barty Crouch, Jr.?"

Quirrell continued his silence, instead just staring up at Bones with his dead eyes. Slowly, his gaze moved to her right, where it landed on Rufus Scrimgeour, and he smiled, which unnerved even Harry. "You won't find Barty; he was in charge of infiltrating the Ministry. As such, he has Polyjuice Potions that will last him for years, and if you haven't caught him yet, he's already gotten to his secret stash of supplies; he could be anywhere by now, anyone by now. He could even be one of you right now, you'll never know, he was good at what he did."

"Is there anything else that you have to say?" Minister Bones questioned, not wanting Quirrell to keep talking about Crouch and fluster the audience. Quirrell stayed silent, but continued to stare at Rufus Scrimgeour with a wide, eerie smile. "Very well, we will start the vote. All of those in favor of an innocent judgement raise your hand." Bones looked around, seeing that no one raised their hands, which didn't surprise her much. "And all in favor of a guilty judgment raise your hand." The exact opposite happened this time: the entire bench raised their hands.

"You have been judged guilty, Mr. Quirrell. Because you have been sentenced to Azkaban once before, you are eligible to receive the dementors' kiss. All of those in favor of such a punishment raise your hand." Only one hand shot up, and it was none other than Rufus Scrimgeour, who was staring straight back at Quirrell with anger in his eyes. "And all those in favor of life in Azkaban, will you please raise your hand?" Every hand but one went into the air, the sole individual dissenter being Scrimgeour, who had already voted. "You are hereby reinstated to your original sentence of life imprisonment within the confines of Azkaban prison, Quirinus Quirrell."

A few more minutes passed, before the final Death Eater that the Ministry had in their holding cells was brought in front of the Wizengamot. The dementors dragged in Stephen Cornfoot; the man was of medium height and had high cheekbones, a straight nose, a very pale complexion, dark hair, and gray eyes. As he sat in his chair, Rufus Scrimgeour growled at him, remembering that face from when he was kidnapped.

"Stephen Cornfoot," Minister Bones began, looking up from the parchment that was in front of her. "You have been accused of serving the Dark Lord Voldemort as a Death Eater, as well as abducting members of the wizarding society, including one Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. How do you plead?"

"Guilty." Cornfoot said, immediately, not wanting to drag it out. "If you want names, I'll give you names, but just know that when the new darkness comes, we will all be here, waiting for them, willing to devote our services to the utter eradication of mudblood and muggle vermin."

Nearly all the members of the Wizengamot stared at Cornfoot with an uneasy look on their faces, clearly perturbed by what he had said. Harry stared down at Cornfoot as well, surprised by what his former Hogwarts rival said, never knowing that the man had this much darkness inside of him—though, perhaps since Cornfoot's best friend Zacharias Smith died in one of their Death Eater raids, he had been changed for the worse. "Very well," The Minister said, slowly, regaining her composure. "All those in favor of a guilty verdict, please raise your hand." Hands immediately popped up, and before long, the entire Wizengamot was raising their hands. "You have been found guilty, Stephen Cornfoot, and by the power invested in me by the Wizengamot, I sentence you to eighty years imprisonment for your crimes."

The rest of the week was spent wrangling up a few more Death Eaters and then giving them their trial and hearings. While some Death Eaters managed to talk their way out of punishment, a lot more were caught than the last time Voldemort fell. In fact, rather than just the ten Death Eaters that were found last time, the Ministry had imprisoned sixteen. Unfortunately, that still left nearly twenty that were not imprisoned. Of course, there were some that could not be found in that twenty, including both Barty Crouch, Jr. and Peter Pettigrew, but Harry had confidence that sooner or later, both of them would slip up and be found somewhere in the world.

A week later, it was Saturday, January 25th and Harry and Tonks were setting up for a party that they were hosting that day. The party was meant to honor all of those who had helped in beating Voldemort, as well as getting everyone they loved together for a moment of fun, enjoyment, and lightheartedness. Since it was winter and snowing outside, the party was inside their home—all of the curtains on the windows were taken down, allowing all of the guests to view the landscape and the ocean in the distance, as well as the beautiful snow that was falling down onto the cold ground from just about anywhere inside the house.

Viktor and Hermione were the first people to arrive, appearing in the first floor fireplace in a flash of green flames. "Hey, guys," Harry said, as he walked into the living room and saw the couple standing in front of the fire.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione smiled, her fingers intertwined with her husband's. "Do you need any help?" She questioned, wondering if she could be any help at all.

"No," Harry shook his head, knowing that he along with Zeali, Dobby, Andromeda, and Tonks, had already prepared everything that they needed. "We should be good. Tonks is in the kitchen, in case you're wondering." Hermione kissed Viktor and walked off, presumably to talk to Tonks. Before she was out of sight, however, Harry quickly rushed over to her, remembering that he had wanted to talk to her about something very important. "Hey, Hermione, before I forget, I want to thank you."

"Thank me for what?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow, turning around to face him.

"For talking to Lisa and getting her to understand that if I would have known something was going to happen, Roger would have never been able to join the Order." Seeing Hermione's confused face, he started to second guess himself. "It was you, wasn't it? I mean, she hated me, but now she's forgiven me while I didn't do anything."

"It was Viktor, not me." Hermione grinned, realizing what Harry had meant, before continuing on to the kitchen.

Harry stared over at Viktor, before he walked back over to his friend, a small smile lining his handsome face. "How are you?" He asked, questioning how his dear friend was about everything that had happened lately.

"I'm tired, very tired." Viktor sighed, falling back onto one of the couches. Over the past few months, he had been working three times as much as he normally would, which was draining to him, both mentally and physically, though he was more than happy to have done it if it helped Harry and his friends in any way possible.

"I bet," Harry agreed, wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next few weeks. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Not yet," Viktor replied as the flames erupted in the fireplace once more. He flicked his eyes over to who it was and gave a grin and a nod when he saw that it was Ted and Andromeda Tonks, Nymphadora's parents.

Before long, the house was flooded with people, all of whom were smiling and laughing, just happy to get together. Harry made his way around the house, trying to speak with everyone who was there, with Tonks doing the same as well. He welcomed Neville and his date, Sophie Roper, Neville apparently having taken Despereaux's advice and had become more serious with someone. He also saw Despereaux himself with his fingers intertwined with Tracey Davis, which made Harry happy for some reason.

"Harry," Sirius called out, gesturing for the Harry to come over when he saw the younger wizard come into view. There was a small group around Sirius, which included a few men and two women, one of whom was Emmeline Vance. "You remember Cepheus and Austrinus Nigel, don't you?" He questioned, looking over to his godson.

Three men stood next to Sirius, with Harry immediately recognizing two from their dinner they had months before. Cepheus was a moderately famous author, and was a man of medium height, with short black hair and gray eyes; Harry remembered when he and Cepheus had enjoyed a nice drink in the Leaky Cauldron just a month prior before the Christmas Holiday, a time that felt like years ago to Harry. Austrinus, meanwhile, was a tall and thick man that had gray eyes and dark brown hair, whom Harry had only met twice. "Of course," Harry smiled, shaking the wizards' hands. "And you must be another Nigel, no?" Harry asked, with his eyes flicking over to a tall wizard that was next to Austrinus, who looked very similar to the Austrinus, his brother.

"Must be," The man grinned; shaking Harry's hand as a woman with long black hair came strolling up to them, carrying a small child in a baby basket. "I'm Peleus Nigel, and this is my wife Emese." He said, gesturing to the black haired woman. Harry nodded and smiled to Emese, who said a cheerful hello in response.

"I've heard about you both from Austrinus," Harry said, remembering the conversation that Nigels had had when they visited Sirius in Grimmauld Place. They said that Emese had wanted to send Lucida to Hogwarts, which would make her the first Nigel to go to Hogwarts ever since they broke away from the Blacks. "And this must be little Lucida," Harry grinned, bending down and looking at a little baby girl, who had startling violet eyes and a tuft of black hair. She stared straight up at Harry, meeting his gaze, which startled the older wizard a bit, forcing him to look over to Sirius.

"See what we've been saying? She's more lucid than children five times her age." Sirius laughed, noticing Harry's strange expression.

"It must be because of her name," Her father nodded with a large grin, noticing the pun that Sirius had used. He introduced himself to Tonks when the metamorphmagus came strolling over, and smiled as the woman fawned over his daughter.

"She is so cute," Tonks cooed, reaching out with her finger and allowing Lucida to play with it. "How old is she?"

"Almost a year," Her mother answered, grinning from ear to ear. Emese had always wanted the Nigels to come out of the darkness and get to know the world, and now that the last of the prejudiced Blacks in Bellatrix Lestrange was dead, she felt now was the perfect time.

A few minutes later, Tonks smiled as she watched Sirius and the Nigels walk over to get a drink, and then she gave out a small sigh, though Harry did not hear. "I'm glad he's found some blood relatives that, you know, like him." She whispered, and then corrected herself when she realized what she had said. "Besides my mom and me, I mean."

"I have a surprise for you," Gaetana Robards' voice cut through the air, walking up behind Tonks. Tonks turned around with Harry, and grinned at Gaetana expectantly.

Gaetana smiled brightly at Tonks, before she silently lifted up her left hand and jangled her fingers, showcasing the large diamond ring that she had on her fourth finger. "No way!" Tonks shouted with wide eyes as a smile appeared on her face, drawing the attention of everyone around them. She took a few quick steps towards her friend and engulfed her in a large hug, as the pair twirled around in joy. Then, suddenly she stopped and looked up at Gaetana. "You're not going back to Italy, are you?"

"No," Gaetana shook her head, happily. "Better yet, when my mother heard about how brave my father was at Hogwarts, leading Aurors and Hit Wizards against the Death Eaters, she decided that she was retiring and moving back in with him. She's coming to England with my grandparents!"

"That's great!" Tonks exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. She would finally get to see her best friend whenever she wanted, rather then only on special occasions or when they're fighting a war against the most dangerous Dark Lord ever.

Harry looked over to Cedric, and while he was wearing a smile on his handsome face, he didn't seem particularly happy, though Harry didn't know why. After all, shouldn't it be a happy day? It wasn't everyday that an engagement happens, right? "What's wrong?"

"What?" Cedric questioned, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind. "Oh, nothing, just tired, that's all." He said, gesturing for Harry to follow him over to the couches, where Viktor was sitting, talking with a Lilyre Moon and Terry Boot. As they arrived, Terry and Lilyre both got up to get some food, leaving the trio alone on the couch.

"I'm going back to Bulgaria for a month or two in a couple of days to visit my family" Viktor said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "They have been really vorried about me, so I figured I'd go home and spend some time vith them. Hermione vill still be in England, however, since Hogwarts vill resume classes starting next veek."

Harry stayed silent for a second, and then gave out a loud sigh. "Will you two meet me up in the library?"

"Sure," They both nodded, before rising to their feet.

"Good, shall we say in ten minutes?" Again, they nodded, and Harry left to gather a few more people that he wanted to join the trio in the library.

After ten minutes, Harry was the last to enter the library, closing the wooden doors behind him. He turned around, and saw nearly everyone who he wanted to be there, there: everyone who had attended his bachelor party who was still alive and fought against Voldemort, except for one man. Just then, there was a knock on the door, and Harry smiled, knowing just who it was that was there—he had told Tonks to notify the man to come up to the library when she saw that he had arrived. He opened up the door and allowed his guest entry, and when he did enter, there were audible gasps at his appearance.

"What is he doing here?" George screeched, pointing a threatening finger at the tall man with a rabbit-looking face and dark hair.

"I didn't know this party was going to be filled with Death Eaters." Wayne Hopkins sneered, grabbing his wand and pointing it straight at the man's chest.

"And the last horses just crossed the finish line," Sirius whispered, looking over to the new entry into the room. "Theodore here was Kylie, you know, one of the people who risked his life just as much as any of you in order to defeat Voldemort."

"How many of you knew?" Theodore Nott questioned, looking around at the group.

Sirius looked around as well, and when he saw nearly everyone shrug, he sighed. "Was I really the only one who figured it out?"

"I thought it would be nice if we all go together and had a toast, you know, to all of our fallen friends." Harry started, slowly, somewhat nervous. He didn't want to insult anyone as the wounds from the losses were still fresh, but he knew that they all needed this. He took his normal, fixed black wand from his robes and gave it a broad wave, and fifteen glasses appeared on the coffee table that was in the center of the circle of couches and chairs. He then walked over to the dry bar that was in the corner, and pulled out two bottles of currant red rum. "In case you haven't noticed, this is everyone who was at my stag party that…well, are still able to attend and were apart of the Order of the Phoenix."

They all poured themselves a glass, and when everyone was ready, Harry raised his glass high into the air. "To all those we lost!"

"Cheers," The group said, somberly, as they downed their drink.

"This can't be all that there is," Cedric whispered, walking over the table and starting to pour himself another drink. Everyone else passed their glasses as well, and when everyone had another, Cedric put the bottle back down on the table. "I wish we could do something, I wish…I wish there was some way magic could fix this." Cedric went silent for a moment, but then suddenly picked up the bottle of rum and threw it at the wooden doors, where it exploded against the wall—glass spattered all over the room, though it hurt no one. "WE LOST SO MUCH!"

He looked around the room and noticed everyone there, making eye contact with them each individually. "Lilyre lost his entire family, his mother, his father, his two sisters, his grandparents: all dead. For Merlin's sake, his house was burned down to the ground! Harry lost his parents and his unborn child. George lost his twin brother, and his older brother was maimed by a beast of a wizard—no offense, Remus." Cedric said, looking over to the werewolf, who just raised his glass in response. "Mad-Eye Moody, Dumbledore, and countless others died. We lost our close friend, one of my best friends and a good man in Roger. And I LOST MY BLOODY HAND!" Cedric yelled out, his eyes wide in anger while the others just watched on in sadness; he was saying exactly what they felt inside. Harry watched his friend go off, surprised by everything that was happening—he had never seen Cedric so smolderingly angry. Sure, he had seen Cedric pissed off in the heat of the moment, but never had he seen his friend hold in so much hatred and anger inside of him. "But still these so called wizards, these disgusting Death Eaters can roam free? It sickens me that some of those monsters are still out there."

"There is really nothing we can do about it, can we?" Terry Boot sighed, believing that there was absolutely nothing they could do. Because he had lost his ear in the battle of Hogwarts, he now wore his hair down and shaggy, covering up his missing body part. Someday, perhaps, he'd be able to get fake ear, but there was nothing like that at that moment in time. Luckily enough, however, he could still hear, albeit not as good as he once did. "It wouldn't be right to all get pitchforks, form into a posse, and march upon their homes, would it?"

"No, but I will change this; I will make sure that this will never happen again." Cedric spat, his anger subsiding just a bit. "The corruption in the Ministry disgusts me. If it wasn't for the corruption and ineptness after the last war, perhaps we could have ended Voldemort's reign quicker this time"

"That's probably true," Shacklebolt agreed, knowing that if the Ministry had made more of an effort to actually capture Death Eaters and not allow them to talk their way out of their punishments last time, then Voldemort would have had a much smaller power base to work with during his second rise.

"What are you going to do?" Lilyre Moon asked, cocking an eyebrow, wondering what Cedric had in mind. Being reminded that his family was slaughtered hurt him, but then hearing the list of things that everyone else had lost, which didn't include every injury or loss that everyone had sustained, really put things into perspective for him and made his pain subside a bit.

"I'm going to become the Minister of Magic," Cedric answered simply, making Harry smile at that proclamation. There was a confidence to Cedric that not many of them had ever seen; it was as if there was nothing the world could do to stop him from becoming the Minister, that he would overcome any obstacle.

"Well, here's to the future Minister of Magic!" Sirius cheered, raising his glass into the air, the memory of Harry and him cleaning Grimmauld Place, where Harry admitted that he thought it was Cedric's lifelong goal to be the Minister not escaping his mind.

Fifteen minutes later, the group dispersed, each going back down to the first floor to enjoy the rest of the party. As Harry looked for Tonks, he came across Lisa, Roger's widow. "Harry!" Lisa grinned, clearly over blaming Harry for Roger's death and accepting that it was the Death Eaters that got Roger killed, not Harry.

Harry hugged her, and then pulled back, running his eyes over her stomach. "You don't look pregnant at all, is everything all right?" Harry questioned Lisa in a worried tone, hoping that she was okay.

Lisa smiled, patting Harry on the shoulder. "I'm fine; it's only been a month, Harry." She said, making Harry shrug with a lopsided smile.

"Harry," Tonks whispered, bringing her arms up around Harry's neck, as her husband turned at her voice.

"Yes," He replied, staring down at her.

"I'm pregnant," She grinned, watching his reaction, wanting to see the unadulterated joy that she knew would come.

"What, I thought, wasn't it impossible…after Dolohov hit you with his curse….mediwizard said it was impossible…" Harry rambled, his eyes wide with shock, trying to grasp the situation.

"I guess he was wrong," Tonks laughed, as Harry picked her up. She wrapped her legs around him, both hugging each other tightly, the joy of the moment overcoming them. As their friends enjoyed the party around them, Harry and Tonks both laughed and laughed, enamored with the idea that they were going to be parents, that they were going to have a child. Then and there, Harry promised himself that he would be there for his child, even if it cost him everything that he loved—his child would be his most cherished, and there would be nothing, nothing that would take that away from him.

As Harry put Tonks down, Cedric and Viktor came up behind Harry, each with large smiles on their faces. "Did you hear?" He enthusiastically questioned them, wanting everyone to know about it.

"Yeah," They both nodded.

Cedric looked over to Tonks, and then flicked his gaze over to Harry. "I'll bet you twenty-five galleons that it's a girl." He said, wanting to truly get back to the normalcy that the group had before all the Voldemort stuff. Roger was usually the one that initiated their bets, but since his dear friend was gone, Cedric figured he'd have to step up, which in a way, made him extremely happy, believing that the tradition was honoring Roger's memory.

"You got yourself a bet, because I know it's going to be a boy." Harry replied, laughing once more, knowing that this was just the beginning of his adult life, rather than the conclusion of his pre-child life. And, while this chapter closed with a happy ending, he knew the story wasn't over for Harry Potter. No, instead the tale was just beginning for the man with green eyes, messy black hair, and the lightning bolt-shaped scar.

AN: Well, there it is, the final chapter. It's been amazing these last three years, a really great ride that taught me a lot about writing. Be on the lookout for my epilogue and the new story, Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun, where Harry is thrust into a different time and is forced to adapt to a new life with new people, while also going through the war against the Dark Lord.


	42. Epilogue

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: This turned into more of a prologue for a sequel if I ever write one, rather than an epilogue for this story, but I feel it works as both. Now you know why I was pushing Lucida all this time.

S/N 2: Be ready for my new story, Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun, which will be out within a few weeks.

S/N 3: The names on Harry's family tree come from chapter 8 "Welsh and the Tree of Madness," and chapter 29 "Home for the Holidays: Run Run Draco."

Chapter 42: Epilogue

_July 1, 2003_

"Do you think we can go outside and enjoy the beach sometime soon or did you trick us over here just to bore us to death?" Cedric moaned, watching as Harry paced in front of his family tree in the first floor study.

"It'll just take a moment," Harry growled, playfully, keeping his eyes on the tree that was hanging on the wall in front of him. He had invited those close to him over for a barbeque, planning on using the day to enjoy his private little beach, the cool sea water, and the warm summer air, but first he wanted to run something by his close friends. "I've chosen Janus, Arcturus, or Emery for the baby, if he's a boy. What do you think?"

"Cool, can we get going now?" Cedric inquired, dismissing Harry's question without even thinking about it for a second. Viktor chuckled on the couch next to Cedric, making the other man throw a glare towards the quidditch star.

"You mean Janus, as in the forbearer of the Potter family, the one who started it all?" Remus asked, rising from his seat and walking over to where Harry was standing, wanting to see where the younger wizard was getting the names. "Arcturus is for your great, great, great grandfather, on the Black's side? And Emery…where is Emery?" He asked, looking over the tree for the name Emery. "Ah, found it. So Emery is the son of Janus' that your line hails from?"

"I like those names," Sirius nodded from his spot on the couch, next to Cedric and Viktor, a large smile forming on his face as he looked over to Cedric. Cedric rolled his eyes with a sigh, admitting defeat, knowing that it was a battle not worth fighting.

"Yeah, good names," Cedric drawled, making Harry and the rest laugh as they all walked towards the door, intent on going down to the beach below the cliffs on Harry's property.

_August 31, 2003_

"It's a boy!" The mediwitch that was hovering over Tonks exclaimed, holding a newborn baby boy in her arms. When they saw their beautiful child, Tonks and Harry both smiled at each other, tears of joy in their eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry walked out of the room and entered the lobby, where his family and friends were waiting expectantly for the news. As they stared up at him in anticipation of his announcement, his gaze ran over everyone there and he couldn't help but feel loved by them all. "His name is Janus Potter," Harry grinned, making everyone jump up to congratulate him, engulfing him in hugs and handshakes.

Lisa, with a newborn boy in her arms, couldn't help but smile up to Harry as she came to congratulate him. "Our boys will go to Hogwarts together!" She exclaimed, as Harry hugged her gently, making sure not to hurt her son, who was named Warrick and was born three weeks prior on August 5.

"That's true, I never thought about that," Harry nodded, and then, thinking about it some more, he laughed loudly. "What a coincidence that is. If Janus had been born just one day later, he'd be a year after Warrick, wouldn't he?"

_August 31, 2014_

"Does he have to go to Hogwarts, mummy?" A little boy with unruly black hair questioned with tears welling up in his hazel eyes as he walked into his parents' bedroom late at night. To both Harry and Tonks, he looked strikingly similar to the pictures they had of James Potter as a young child.

"Yes, sweetie," Tonks nodded, bringing her youngest son up into her bed and holding him in her arms. Her middle son came into the room as well, leaning against the edge of the bed as he listened to the conversation. "He turned eleven today, and when you're eleven, you get to go to Hogwarts. But don't worry, he'll be back soon for Christmas and you can owl him whenever you want, I promise."

"You promise?" The boy replied, wiping his eyes with his knuckles, happy that his mother would allow him to write to his brother.

"I promise." Tonks smiled, kissing his forehead and wiping the teams off of his pink cheeks.

"Come on, Em, let's get you back into bed." Harry said, hopping out of bed and taking his son's hand. Emery jumped down from the bed and walked out of the room with his father, using his left hand to wipe his teary eyes all the while.

"Goodnight mum," Arcturus, Emery's older brother said, as he left the room in the wake of his brother and father.

"I still can't believe he's going to Hogwarts already," Tonks whispered when Harry returned to the room, a sadness enveloping her. "Is he going to make friends there? I mean, he barely talks to me, and he's my son. He'll be in the library more than he'll be out on the quidditch pitch. Him and his reading, I'm afraid he'll be ostracized because of it." She sighed, knowing that her son's ambition was to learn all that he could and one day become the great wizard, rather than to pull pranks and play quidditch like other children his age.

"He'll be fine," Harry said, grabbing the Nightly Prophet to read as he got comfortable in bed. "What house do you think he'll be in?" He questioned, wanting to know his wife's opinion on the matter. He had his own ideas, believing that his son would either be in Ravenclaw or Slytherin, but he couldn't decide which one as his son embodied many traits of both houses.

"Do you even have to ask?" Tonks rolled her eyes, already knowing which house he'd be in—the same house that her mother was in when she attended Hogwarts. "His first words were in parseltongue." She sighed again, knowing that she had lost her chance to really connect with her son. After all, once he went off to Hogwarts, she would only see him on holidays, after once he was finished with Hogwarts, he would be his own man, capable of living on his own. When would they be able to connect after that? "He and I will never have what you two have." She cried, referencing the fact that Harry had a much better relationship with Janus than she could ever have.

The next day found the Potter family waving to Janus as the Hogwarts Express steamed out of Platform 9 and 3/4, on its way to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. When his parents were out of sight, Janus started to walk down the long train, trying to find his compartment. He had long black hair and startling green eyes that were the same as his father and maternal grandmother, albeit they were not covered partially by glasses as were his father's eyes. While he was thin, he was quite tall for his age, making it easily seen that one day he would be quite an imposing figure. "Janus, we're over here!" A twelve year old girl called out, gesturing for Janus to come over to her.

"I knew it was on this car," Janus said quietly, entering the compartment after the girl did and taking one of the empty seats. The compartment was filled with another boy his age and a girl, who looked to be a year older than them, though around the same age of the first girl.

"I can't wait to get to Hogwarts!" The other boy said excitedly, staring out of the window as the train began to speed off towards. Ever since receiving his Hogwarts letter, he had dreams of magic and mystique, where he'd be able to meet new friends and become the wizard that his father had been when he was alive.

"Warrick, enough, you've been saying that for three weeks." The girl who had called for Janus replied, rolling her eyes at the antics of her little brother.

"It really is getting annoying," The other girl agreed, shaking her black-haired head. Then, she looked over to the first girl with her violet gaze, asking, "Does he ever shut up, Harmony?"

"No, Lucida, he doesn't. You get used him and learn to just channel his voice out of your head after a while." Harmony laughed, pointing a finger at her brother as he blushed red.

Ignoring the two girls, Warrick looked over to Janus, his oldest friend. "What house do you think you'll be in, Janus? Uncle Harry said he thought you would be very difficult to sort. Speaking of which, was what Sirius told us about fighting a troll true? Because I don't know if I can do that." He finished with a nervous laugh, clearly frightened at the prospect of having to duel a troll.

A few hours later, the Hogwarts Express was coming to a halt as they arrived in Hogsmeade Station on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, directly outside of the grounds of Hogwarts. The foursome gathered their things and exited the train: the two girls started to go one way, while the younger boys went towards Hagrid, who was calling the first years over. "I'll see you later, Warrick, good luck with the sorting! You too, Janus, good luck." Harmony said, as she and Lucida walked over to the seemingly horseless carriages and entered one that was unoccupied.

After crossing the lake and walking up to the school, the first years were met by professor Hermione Krum in an antechamber off of the Great Hall, who explained to them what would take place. In addition to that, she also as gave them a brief overview of what it meant to be sorted into one of the four houses, and Warrick gave out a loud sigh of relief next to Janus when he heard that he wouldn't have to duel a troll in order to be sorted into his house. When she was finished with what she had to say, she granted them entrance into the Great Hall, where the entire group entered with wide eyes as they looked around at the floating candles and upwards towards the charmed ceiling.

In no time, Warrick's moment to be sorted was quickly coming, and sweat began to accumulate on the palms of his hands. "Warrick Davies." Hermione finally called out, trying to stop the smile that she knew was forming on her face. To see the son of one of her best friends entering Hogwarts, it was surreal, and she couldn't help but feel giddy over the chance to teach him. Warrick grinned up at Hermione and worriedly took a seat on the stool, not knowing what to expect. When Hermione put the hat on top of his head, it was much too big for him, and ended up covering his eyes as it slipped down his forehead.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat called out in a loud voice, taking a few moments to deliberate where to place Warrick. Warrick jumped back to his feet and ran over to the Gryffindor table, excited to be there with the rest of the Gryffindors. He waved to his sister sitting at the Ravenclaw table, who gave him the thumbs up in response, congratulating him on his house.

A lot more names were yelled out, and before he knew it, Janus was next in line. "Janus Potter," Hermione called, this time unable to prevent the smile that formed on her face upon seeing Janus. Remus, from his seat at the professor's table, smiled down at Janus, encouraging the boy to be sorted. Unlike the other students who sat down tentatively, Janus confidently took a seat on the stool, wanting to be sorted into the house that he would be spending his next seven years.

"Oh, yes, you have so much potential, so much talent." A voice in his mind, the Sorting Hat's, said as Hermione placed it on top of his black-haired head. "Is there any doubt of where you should go? With your parseltongue ability, resourcefulness, determination, and complete disregard for the rules, you're perfect for this house. I daresay you are the student that Salazar always wanted, always craved, just like your father, except you do not have his hesitancy for greatness. SLYTHERIN!" The hat screamed out, igniting a round of applause that echoed around the Great Hall. Janus walked over to the Slytherin table, taking a seat next to the second year Lucida, who gave him a smile, having known that he would be in Slytherin all along.

_October 27, 2014_

"Mr. G, are you my descendent?" Six year old Emery Potter questioned Gellert Grindelwald, as the ex-Dark Lord visited the empty portrait of the former Headmaster of Hogwarts that hung in the hallway of the Potter house.

Grindelwald looked down at Emery with a smile on his face, appreciating his time as a portrait. "I think you mean ancestor, but no, I am not." He said, correcting the young boy's mistake of words.

"Then who are you?" Emery asked, staring blankly up at the older wizard in the portrait, wondering why he was there. He knew the other old portrait was of a Headmaster of Hogwarts, but he had only seen Grindelwald a few times and had no idea who he was since his father had never told him—all he knew about Grindelwald was that he went by the name of Mr. G.

"My name is," Grindelwald started, trying to think up a name, remembering how Harry had told him to never say his true name. "Gregor Grendel, and I am simply an old friend of your father."

"You must mean you're a really old friend of my father," Emery giggled, running away down the hall, leaving Grindelwald alone once again.

_December 25, 2014_

"I have a present for you that will be special just between us," Harry said, as he and Janus walked into the library on Christmas morning. They could hear laughter coming from downstairs, where many of the family's closest friends gathered to enjoy the holiday together. While Janus took a seat on one of the couches, Harry headed for the bookcase that housed the multiple secret rooms behind it. He looked over to Janus, who was staring back at him, and with a large smile on his face, he pulled the book that would grant access to his workshop and watched as Janus' eyes lit up as the bookshelf moved to the side and revealed the room. Harry quickly grabbed a package that was on the workbench and headed over to the couch, where he took a seat next to Janus. "This was given to me by Albus Dumbledore, but that was only because my father wasn't alive to give it to me himself. Open it, see what's inside."

Janus took the present that his father offered to him, and opened it up, revealing a silk-like cloak that felt fine to the touch. Janus quietly took the cloak from the paper, stood up, and wrapped it around his body. His breath hitched when his body disappeared from view, and he looked up to his father with wide eyes—Harry just smiled back at his son, remembering that his reaction was not unlike his son's when he first received his cloak. "Yes, that is an invisibility cloak, one that has been in our family for generations, even going as far back as the 1300s." Harry stood up, and wrapped his son up in a hug, a bit sad that his son was growing up so quickly. "It's yours now, and one day, I hope that you will give it your son."

_July 12, 2018_

"_Dad, what is a Horcrux? I came upon the term in a book I was reading a few weeks ago, but I couldn't find anything else about it."_ Janus questioned in parseltongue as he sat at the table in the library of his house, looking over to his father, who was standing in the doorway.

"English," Harry said, giving his son a pointed look, as he weighed his options on what to do about the question. He didn't want to leave his son's question unanswered, but was his son truly ready for it? He didn't know, since, after all, he himself probably wasn't ready to hear about Horcruxes when he was Janus' age. "A Horcrux," He started slowly, trying to find the words that he wanted. "Is a receptacle for a piece of a person's soul that is created for the express purpose of achieving immortality. As long as the piece of soul is within that receptacle, the wizard or witch cannot die."

He guessed that the process of creation was a dark and evil one, so he did not ask about how it was done. He presumed it was something that his father wouldn't answer, either way. "Who created the spell to do it?"

"An ancient wizard named Herpo the Foul." Harry replied, having read about the history of the creation of Horcruxes when he was leading the Order against Voldemort over a decade prior. Apparently, Herpo was a dark wizard that loved to push the boundaries of magic well further than anyone else had during his time, which led to him creating the first Horcrux, among other spells, curses, and beasts.

"Didn't he also breed the first Basilisk?" Janus asked, and upon seeing his father's nod, another questioned popped into his mind. "Do you think Salazar Slytherin created a Horcrux?"

"No," Harry shook his head, meeting his son's eyes, wanting to make sure that his son understood his every word. "Slytherin may have been evil, but he was not a coward: he met death head on, just like the rest of us must do. Evilness does not always equate to cowardice; most of the time it does, but one can have an honorable quality even if they are evil." Janus nodded in understanding, and Harry smiled, knowing that his son was just curious about magic. "Your brothers are upstairs playing quidditch in case you're interested," Harry said, before walking out of the library and down the hall towards his room.

Just as Harry left, the fire at the other end of the library erupted, and Lucida Nigel's face popped up in the flames. "My parents just went to dinner with my uncles; do you want to come over?" She questioned, looking over to Janus, who grinned back at her.

_February 22__nd__, 2020_

"Potter's got the quaffle," A loud, teenage voice boomed in anticipation as the crowd around the quidditch stadium roared. "Over to Brooks, back to Potter, goal! And Gryffindor leads 110 to 80!"

"He's really good," Lucida whispered, watching as Emery celebrated in the air on his broom. He circled around to his team, and gave them all a high five, before turning his attention back to the quaffle, which was being thrown between the opposing team's chasers. "But then, what else should I expect? He clearly inherited your father's flying ability."

Janus nodded, with a face that showed his pride of his first-year brother for scoring the goal. He knew that Emery was lucky to even get on the team, but once he did, he really showed that he belonged out there, regardless of the age difference between him and the other quidditch players. He continued to watch his brother fly through the air, showing a skill with a broom that not many in the wizarding world had, save perhaps for his father and Viktor Krum. While he knew that he was gifted with many abilities and traits, his little brother clearly had him beat when it came to brooms, which was something that he couldn't be happier about.

_May 25__th__, 2020_

"I remember when your father was in my office on his day, in the same seat you're sitting in now, telling me how he wanted to be a Hit Wizard." The aging professor Filius Flitwick wheezed, smiling brightly as he stared at the young Potter in front of him. Unlike Janus who looked like Harry, and Emery who looked like James, Arcturus Potter took after his Black heritage more so than his Potter blood: being tall with long black hair, gray eyes, and aristocratic good looks, he looked similar to his Black cousins, the twin sons of Sirius and Emmeline Black. "Oh, how long ago that was. I was much younger back then, as you can assume."

"Yeah," Arcturus grinned, knowing that it had been over twenty years ago. He imagined that back then, Flitwick had darker hair, rather than the white that it had changed to in old age, and was a perhaps tad taller than he was now, being barely taller than a wooden stool.

"Of course your mother was in Hufflepuff so I didn't talk to her about her profession, though I always found her to be charming while she was here." Flitwick said, looking up into the air as if he was daydreaming, not noticing the pun that he had inserted into the conversation. "So chipper and happy, I don't think I ever saw her without a smile on her face; oh, and of course with her pink hair spiked up. That pink hair was so bright; you could see it from Hogsmeade village on clear days."

"Pink?" Arcturus laughed, unable to imagine his mother with pink hair. He could envision green or blue, maybe, but not pink.

"Yes, pink." Flitwick smiled, turning his gaze back to Arcturus. "Now, now, onto what we're here for: your future. So tell me, young Arcturus, what is it that you want to do? Do you want to be a Hit Wizard like your father? Do you want to be an Auror like your mother? Or maybe you want to be something completely different."

"Well, honestly," Arcturus started, looking more nervous than ever. "I think, well, I've been thinking that…that maybe I could be a wandmaker. You know, study wandlore and craft wands."

"Wonderful!" Flitwick beamed, impressed by Arcturus' choice of a profession. Over the course of his long career, no one, not a single student, had ever chosen to become a wandmaker—it was a very rare profession and touched many lives in the wizarding community. "I've never had a student tell me that before. Now, hm, what will you have to take? Well," Flitwick shuffled through a few pieces of parchment, thrown off of his regiment by Arcturus' proclamation. "You'll need to take Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, and Ancient Runes."

"Okay and I'll also take Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts." Arcturus added, wanting to take those two courses to truly master magic for his own personal accomplishment. While he wasn't as smart as Janus was, he was in Ravenclaw for a reason, and as such, he was more intelligent than most students at Hogwarts, being at the top of most his classes rather easily.

"Good, good." Flitwick nodded, not seeing a problem with Arcturus taking so many courses as he knew that the younger wizard could handle it. "Can you tell my why you would need to take the mandatory courses?"

"Well," Arcturus said, as he took a moment to think about Flitwick's questions. "Care of Magical Creatures is for the wand cores, so I know the creatures and their magical properties that I will use as my wand cores. Charms would help in making the wands themselves, as would potions. History of Magic would teach me a little about wandlore itself, and Ancient Runes are needed to mend the ingredients together, as would potions again."

"Excellent! Well done, well done." Flitwick exclaimed, clapping his hands together as a large smile formed on his face.

_October 17__th__, 2020_

"Come on, Em, mum's having the baby." Arcturus said, talking his brother out of the Gryffindor Common Room as the portrait swung open and revealed the room behind.

"Merlin, now the Slytherins are going to know where our common room is!" Emery alleged, noticing that Janus was standing next to Remus, a few feet down the hallway, waiting for Emery.

"That doesn't matter, Emery," Arcturus said, as the foursome began to walk towards Remus' office, where they would floo to St. Mungo's to see their new sibling.

"Sure it does," Emery nodded next to Arcturus, looking up at his older brother with wide, hazel eyes. "You're okay, because you're in Ravenclaw, but he's a Slytherin, the house of the snakes. They're afraid of me, you know, they go quiet whenever I'm around."

"They're not afraid of you," Arcturus rolled his eyes, amused at his little brother and his antics. The three Potter brothers were not unlike the three brothers from the Tale of the Three Brothers: one was quiet, but desired power; one was loud and boastful; and one was quiet and wise.

"They sure are," Emery puffed out his chest, proud of being feared by the snakes. As a loyal Gryffindor, he felt that it was his duty to protect the other Gryffindors from the Slytherins, though there was nothing to protect them from. "They're a bunch of cowards, that lot."

"No," Arcturus shook his head, knowing the truth, though he didn't want to voice it to Emery. The true reason that the Slytherins ignored Emery was because Lucida had told them to lay off of him once Emery started at Hogwarts, apparently anticipating that he was going to be a loudmouthed Gryffindor before he was even sorted into the house. And, out of respect for Janus, the Slytherins continued to ignore Arcturus, even with Lucida graduating from Hogwarts the year before. "Are you excited to have a baby brother or sister?" He questioned, hoping to get off the subject, knowing that Janus was hearing every word that Arcturus said. That was just like Janus, to ignore anything bad said about him, instead staying stoic and unemotional, which often times made people question his moral integrity, believing him to be a conniving Slytherin of olden times.

"Of course!" Emery grinned enthusiastically, apparently more willing to drop the conversation than he seemed before. "I want to be able to teach him how to fly."

"You sure the baby is going to be a him?" Arcturus smiled, having the feeling that he was going to have a sister, rather than another brother.

"Positive." Emery nodded vigorously.

When the foursome arrived at St. Mungo's, they were surprised to find out that the birth had already happened. Immediately they went up to their mother's room, and when they got there, they saw their baby sister for the first time. "Say hello to your new sister. Her name is Megara," Tonks smiled to her three boys, holding Megara gently in her arms. While her hair was sweaty and she looked very tired, the happiness that glowed on her face was clearly visible, and in many ways, contagious as the rest of the room seemed to brighten up because of her.

_June 24, 2021_

A week after Janus graduated from Hogwarts found the Potter family standing outside of their home, on the lawn in front of the gate that led into the property. Lucida Nigels and members of her family were a few feet away, with other close family and friends spread all around the area. These people included Sirius and his family, which consisted of his two twin sons Kastor and Pollux, and his wife, Emmeline; Viktor and Hermione, who were childless up until that point; Remus, who was still the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and the Gryffindor Head of House at Hogwarts; Lisa and her children, Harmony and Warrick Davies, who both looked strikingly similar to Roger; Ted and Andromeda Tonks, the grandparents of the Potter children; and finally, Cedric and Gaetana and their son, Galvin Diggory. As they were all talking quietly amongst each other, Harry wrapped his arm around Janus' shoulder and walked a couple of yards away from the rest with his son, not wanting anyone else to hear what he was going to say.

"You're the most powerful wizard I know, Janus, even more so than I was at your age." Harry said slowly, trying to gain the confidence he knew it would take in order to continue with what he had to say. "Just promise me, son, that you won't leave me alone to battle the next Dark Lord. Please?" Harry asked his son, knowing that, regardless of his belief in Janus, it needed to be said. He didn't want his son to leave their family and never look back, he didn't know if he or Tonks could handle it.

Being nearly identical heights, Janus stared straight into his father's eyes, understanding the double meaning of his words, though he paid it no mind and was not insulted in the least. After all, who wouldn't expect those kinds of fears? He wasn't normal, he wasn't average, and most of all, he wasn't pure of heart. "I promise, father." He whispered, earning a grin from Harry as they walked back over to where Tonks, Arcturus, and Emery stood.

"Ready?" Lucida questioned, hoisting her bag over her shoulder as she and her parents headed over towards the Potters and the rest, apparently finished with their goodbyes.

"Goodbye, mum," Janus said, hugging his mother gently. He knew this would be hard on her, but he hoped that she knew why he was doing this, why he needed this.

"Promise to write me whenever you can?" Tonks questioned in a hopeful tone, wanting to keep in touch with her son while he traveled.

"Of course," Janus nodded in agreement, knowing that it was the least he could do in appreciation for all the things that his mother had done for him.

"I love you," Tonks said, giving Janus one last hug, before letting him go and taking a step back to join her husband.

"I love you, too," Janus kissed his mother's cheek, and then bent down to talk to his little sister, who was quietly sitting in her basket, next to Tonks. "I know you don't know what I'm saying, but can you take care of this until I get back?" He questioned his little sister, giving her a small stuffed animal in the shape of a unicorn that could run on its own by way of magic. He gripped his sister's hand, before getting up and facing his brothers. "I'll see you, brother?" He questioned Arcturus, who nodded and smiled as he hugged Janus. "Do well in quidditch; I expect to be hearing your name in the professional league after Hogwarts." Janus said, facing Emery, who gave a small smile, having never heard that his brother thought that he was any good.

"Grandma, grandpa, I'll be sure to write to you both." Janus whispered as he hugged both Ted and Andromeda Tonks. They both nodded with teary eyes, unable to speak, too caught up in the emotion of the moment. Turning around, Janus waved to everyone else that was there, having previously said their goodbyes during the farewell party that the Potters had had just an hour before. Ready to leave, he walked over to Lucida and they both headed towards the metal gate that guarded the property, their bags slung over their shoulders.

"When do you think they'll be back?" Tonks questioned with same teary eyes of her parents, not wanting her son to leave her. She didn't know how this could have possibly been the norm a century ago, with parents not only allowing their children to travel the world after Hogwarts, but to actually expect it? It was hard enough just to allow one of her sons to leave like that, but to expect all of them to do it? It was too much in her opinion, and she hoped she would never have to go through it again when Arcturus and Emery were Janus' age.

"I don't know, I don't think they even know." Harry replied, while putting his arm around his wife's shoulders as they all watched Lucida and Janus walk down the dirt path until they were out of sight, heading off on the journey called life.

AN: Thanks again for all those who read this story.


	43. Five Years Later

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I figure I'd give you all a Christmas present and write another epilogue for this story. Though, this totally feels more like a prologue for the sequel that I had planned. This is as a thank you to all those people who have read my stories and have diligently reviewed my chapters, even if it was just a simple one word review. Thank you, and have a good holiday and New Year!

Chapter 43: Five Years Later

It had been nearly five years since Janus Potter and Lucida Nigel left to travel the world, leaving their friends and family to wonder when they would return. Other than the many non-patterned letters that he would send every few days or so, Harry and Nymphadora Potter had not spoken with or seen their oldest son since his departure, which forced a cold, empty sadness upon them that neither one could fix, no matter how hard they tried. Unfortunately, Harry had no time for sadness now, as the British Ministry of Magic was once again under attack from a darkness that began to besiege the country just weeks prior.

As such, immediately after realizing that there was a threat to the safety and well being of the British magical community, Harry called both Sirius and Theodore to gather the old crowd, who mostly all rejoined the Order instantly. Those that did not join were some former members who had fought during the first war against Voldemort, and were now just too old to participate in the battles, though they did offer their services in a variety of other ways. Harry accepted their services gladly, welcoming whatever help the Order could get, regardless of how big or small it was. Overall, Harry was happy to see many of his old comrades, although he wished it was under better terms than what had called them all together.

Additionally, Harry also asked his son Arcturus to recruit some fresh new wizards and witches that wanted to protect their friends and family, mimicking the call to arms that Albus Dumbledore had done when Voldemort had returned all those years ago. Arcturus took up the challenge, asking many of his Hogwarts friends that he trusted with his life to join the Order, whom hesitantly accepted, not really knowing what exactly the Order of the Phoenix did, having not been alive during the second war against Voldemort. Today, December 23, two days before Christmas, was the newly reconstituted Order of the Phoenix's third meeting, and they were still at a loss as to what this threat was, or more specifically, who it was exactly.

The only information they had was that the dark witches and wizards wore the same black cloaks of the Death Eaters, albeit without the bone or metal masks that adorned the Death Eaters during Lord Voldemort's reign. In addition, other than two attacks on a muggle train, and a single attack on Diagon Alley, they had yet to encounter the enemy on a regular basis, leaving the opposition a cloud of mystery that needed to be figured out before they could extinguish the threat. However, one curious fact was that a few people had already been kidnapped without any distinguishable pattern, which meant that it was hard to trace the purpose of the takings and what they were intended to accomplish.

"Yeah, I know," Harry understood, nodding his head in agreement to something that a new member of the Order had said. "But I think…" He began to talk, but then paused and tilted his head up to the ceiling when he heard the front door of the house slam and footsteps creak from above as the person who entered began to walk further into the house. As silence stole over the Order, they realized that someone was walking on the first floor, but whom? Harry quickly scanned the table, counting every member of the Order, making sure he didn't miss anybody. "Everyone is here, though." He whispered, as the footsteps got louder and louder, signaling that they were getting closer and closer to the door. He could hear two sets now, meaning two people had entered a house that should have been impossible to enter.

"Who is that?" Sirius said, getting to his feet, hearing the footsteps as well. Clunk, clack, the footsteps got louder, inching seemingly closer and closer to them. "Andromeda and Ted are at your house, correct? Watching Megara?" He questioned, looking over to Nymphadora, who nodded in agreement that her parents were babysitting her daughter. "The Nigels wouldn't come, so who else has been told the secret? Everyone in the Order is either here or has made it known that they wouldn't be coming tonight." He said, knowing that the Fidelius Charm performed by Albus Dumbledore all those years ago with him as the Secret Keeper that protected the house was still in effect, meaning nobody could find the place or even speak of it to someone who wasn't aware of the secret unless he himself told them where it was.

Just then, the door at the top of the stairs opened, and a pair of feet started to trek down the stairwell, followed closely by another pair. Everyone turned and looked, waiting to see who it was with bated breath. Working from his feet up, they noticed that the man was wearing a long green cloak, black slacks, and white robes. And then, they reached his face, with his black hair, his bright green eyes, and handsome good looks, his was a face that they recognized instantly. He was an imposing man, being as tall as Albus Dumbledore once stood, who was usually the tallest in whatever room he stood—at least the rooms that Hagrid wasn't in, that is.

"Janus!" Tonks screamed in a mixture of surprise and happiness, jumping up from the table and rushing towards her oldest son the instant she saw that it was him. She tackled Janus as soon as she was close enough, tears of joy quickly welling up in her two colored eyes. So happy was she that her hair kept involuntarily changing between pink, purple, and bright orange, unable to settle on a single color, clearly being affected by her emotional state.

Next to Janus, stood Lucida Nigel, who looked astonishingly like a member of the infamous Black family, with her pointed features, her long black hair and violet eyes that seemed cold. "Hello, mum," Janus whispered, wrapping his arms around his much more petite mother. He kissed her cheek, embracing her for the first time in over five years when he had left to travel the world.

"Oh my," Sirius whispered as a large smile appeared on his face, watching as Harry whipped his head around at the mention of his son. Silently, the leader of the Order took a few quick steps towards him, once Nymphadora had released him, amazed that his son had finally returned.

"He's….he's back?" Arcturus whispered to himself as he got to his feet from his chair, so incredibly surprised that his mind went blank. There, standing not ten feet from him stood his older brother, the wizard that he had looked up to and idolized while growing up and attending Hogwarts. He stared in almost disbelief, watching as his mother and father hugged and greeted their firstborn son, waiting for his chance to greet Janus.

"Hello Janus," Harry said quietly, noticing that tears were coming to his own emerald green eyes, blurring his vision.

"Dad," Janus replied, hugging his father happily, knowing how much the man had missed him.

"Oh, I can't believe you're going to be home for Christmas!" Tonks exclaimed, so incredibly thrilled to see her son that she didn't know what to do with herself. Then, while Janus and Harry said hello, she turned to Lucida, who was still standing on the stairs, unable to move around Harry and Janus. "It's good to see you, Lucida!"

"I'd give you a hug, but…" Lucida smiled, nodding her head over to the father and son pair that was blocking the way, preventing her from going over to Tonks.

Once he was done with his father, Janus then met with his brother, Arcturus, who was nearly as tall as he was. Unlike Janus, whom took after Harry immensely, Arcturus looked exactly like a Black, with pointed, aristocratic features and gray eyes, which he clearly inherited from his mother and grandmother. "Brother," Arcturus nodded, pulling away from the hug.

When Arcturus took a step back, Janus was bombarded by people, such as his cousins Kastor and Pollux, various friends that he had not seen since Hogwarts, and other old family friends, like Theodore Nott and Hermione Krum. "Why did you come home now?" Sirius asked, slapping Janus on the back, having always liked the boy, though he wasn't as close to him as he was to Emery, the youngest son.

"Well, it's a long story, so we can all sit down and talk about it later tonight or tomorrow, but to try and make the long story short, we heard about what was happening and we both wanted to come home to make sure you were all okay." Janus answered, walking over to the side of the table that Sirius sat, where Harry had conjured a new chair, right next to his own seat at the head of the table—Sirius sat to Harry's left, being his second in command, while Cedric usually sat to his right, though he was not in attendance.

"And to help," Lucida added, taking a seat next to her old friend Harmony Davies after the pair had hugged hello. "Sorry if we smell, we were in Shanghai just two days ago and we came straight here without showering."

"You guys didn't get married yet, did you?" Harmony questioned with an edge to her voice that made Lucida smile, wanting to make sure she didn't miss her chance to be the maid of honor.

"Oh get off it; I wrote you, you don't think I would have mentioned that fact?" Lucida flashed her left hand to the table, showing an engagement ring on her finger, but no marriage band. "Plus, my mother would kill me if I got married without her there."

"Correction: I would have killed you," Harmony laughed, knowing that the pair would have had a problem had they gotten married without her knowing. "And you only wrote every few months, that doesn't excuse you."

"We didn't mean to interrupt, please, carry on." Janus said, taking the conjured seat in between Sirius and his brother, Arcturus.

"You are never an interruption, Janus." Harry said lovingly, still in shock that his oldest son was home, back from his grand traveling adventure. "We'll talk about it at breakfast tomorrow, yeah?"

"Of course," Janus nodded in agreement, preparing himself to answer all the questions he knew they would eventually ask. He gazed around the table, recognizing most of the faces with a few notable exceptions, before he stopped at Harmony, cocking an eyebrow. "Where is Warrick?" He questioned, wondering where his oldest friend was and why he wasn't attending the meeting.

"Oh, hi to you, too, Janus," Harmony rolled her eyes, annoyed that he couldn't at least say hi to her before asking about her brother. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"This is interesting, the dark prodigal son returns just days after a new dark wizard shows up, hm?" A male voice whispered down at the other end of the table, away from the ears of the Potter family, as he narrowed his glance at Janus. "Along with his femme fatale tramp of a fiancé, I can't be the only one thinking that something is wrong here."

"Not all Slytherins are evil, Corner." A female with red hair and freckles scathed, admonishing him for what he had said—it was both bigoted and old fashioned, let alone insulting to the female sex, as well.

"No, they're not, I know that…but he is." Corner replied nonchalantly, before turning his attention back to the meeting, which Harry had just resumed.

"Like I started to say before, I think it is a necessity to have the Ministry and important personnel therein on high alert until we're made aware of what exactly this person, this Dark Lord wants. Minister Diggory will probably agree with that assessment, I believe, and if not, I'll talk to him as Cedric, not as the Minister." Harry opined, knowing that Cedric would agree with him on at least a personal level, if not a professional one. He paused for a moment, still a bit frazzled by Janus' appearance.

"As you all probably know, we've seen two people that portray themselves as Dark Lords, but they have each alluded to a higher, more powerful master of theirs that has not shown his or her face just yet. However, how do we know for sure that this is not just a bluff? I contend that they are just using it as a fear tactic." Herald McGonagall spoke from the middle area of the table, having returned to Great Britain years ago and immediately joined the Order of the Phoenix the moment Harry called.

He was a thin man, with pursed lips, short jet black hair, a nose that curled upwards at its tip and a talent for magic that mirrored his paternal aunt. The son of Malcolm McGonagall, the younger brother of Minerva, he had attended Hogwarts as a child, leaving the grand school just a year prior to the arrival of James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Severus Snape and many of the other wizards and witches of that class. He had met Harry when the younger wizard traveled the world before his seventh year in Hogwarts, teaching the boy magic that he would not learn in Hogwarts or from any wizard in Europe, having practices and techniques much different in Australia than they had in Great Britain. Seeing the abilities Harry possessed at such a young age, he immediately took a liking to the younger wizard and they quickly became friends, holding mutual esteem and admiration for one another.

"It is certainly a possibility," Harry agreed with the older wizard, turning his gaze to him. "But I question whether you can come up with a legitimate motivation for what such a bluff would get them. They've shown willingness to duel many powerful wizards, such as Sirius and Kingsley, so the fear of not being able to actually conduct or perform magic on a level necessary in order to fulfill their dark ambitions does not seem probable, at least to me."

"Pure fear," Herald contended once more, resolute in his beliefs, though not stubborn in them. He would quickly admit that he was wrong if evidence presented itself that showed that he was incorrect. "If they infuse fear into the people that says 'hey, we're not even the worst, so just give up already,' they would meet their goals much quicker. I've seen it used before many years ago."

"Decent possibility, yes," Harry nodded, not thinking of a legitimate counter argument to the idea due to the relative lack of information that they had at that present moment. Then, seeing the time and how late it was, he gave out a sigh, realizing that they hadn't gotten much done during the meeting at all. "Have a Happy Christmas, everyone." He smiled, wishing everybody a great holiday and adjourning the meeting for the night.

It took a few minutes for all to file out, before it was just Harry and Janus still left in the basement. "I have to go and speak with the Minister. I'm sorry, if I would have known you were coming…" Harry trailed off, feeling awful that he couldn't spend time with his son, and instead had to rush off to perform duties that he wish he didn't need to perform.

"Nonsense," Janus shrugged it off, stifling a yawn, not wanting his father to feel guilty about anything. "I'm not going anywhere; you'll see me when you're done or rather more likely tomorrow."

"Do you want to come? I'm sure Uncle Cedric would love to see you." Harry suggested, gauging whether his son was interested. "What, with you being his godson and all."

"I think I want to get settled first. I haven't even taken a shower." Janus replied, letting his father down gently, knowing that he had other things to accomplish first before he saw any other family members. "Tell him I say hi, though."

"Will do," Harry smiled, bringing his son in for another hug. "Your mom and I are so happy that you're home."

"I know you are," Janus said, pulling away and watching as Harry walked over to the fireplace on the other side of the room. His father picked up a handful of floo powder and called out 'Minister's Office', and in a flash of green flames, he was gone, leaving Janus alone. Turning, he walked up the stairs and into the kitchen, where he knew Lucida and his mother were waiting for him. Hearing voices in the hallway, he followed them, raising a questioning eyebrow about what everyone was talking about.

Lucida, his mother, and Arcturus were all standing around, talking to each other. He walked over to the small group and listened in, not really interested in speaking, though, preferring to just eavesdrop. "Welcome back, Janus," Regulus Black's portrait called out from the sitting room just feet away, leaning awkwardly in his portrait to be able to see into the hallway.

"Thanks, Regulus," Janus said, giving a small grin when he saw the lengths that Regulus was taking to see him. While he didn't seek it out, attention was not something that bothered him, which was clearly a trait that he had inherited from his paternal grandfather, whom craved attention and went to great lengths to receive it during his youth.

"Are you staying at our house?" Tonks questioned, giving him a hopeful glance. His room, she knew, was exactly as he had left, albeit with Zeali having changed the sheets every other day and she herself having gone in there every so often because she missed him so much.

"No," Janus shook his head in the negative, frowning slightly. "We didn't know how late we were going to arrive, we expected somewhere around midnight, so we owled ahead for a room at the Leaky Cauldron. We'll stay there until we can find a place of our own, hopefully after the holiday."

"You don't want to live with me, either? I thought only Arcturus had that feeling." Tonks smiled playfully, knowing that her oldest son wasn't a young boy anymore and didn't need his mother as much. Truthfully, while she didn't have the connection that Janus and Harry had, she had grown accustomed to the relationship that she did have with Janus, and hoped that it would grow now that he was back.

"Where do you live?" Janus questioned his younger brother, looking over at him interestedly. One of the problems with having only spoken with his family through writing was that he missed the everyday things, which was something that he knew he would have to learn about in order to integrate himself back into the family.

"Above my shop in Diagon Alley," Arcturus replied, watching as Lucida brushed against Janus and headed for the door. "Yeah, I never mentioned that in any of my letters."

"I noticed," Janus dryly replied.

"Want to walk with us, Arcturus?" Lucida questioned as she pulled her cloak closer to her body, preparing herself for the harsh winter air.

"Walk?" Arcturus repeated, nodding his head all the while. "Sure. See you tomorrow, mum. Say bye to dad for me," Arcturus said, waving to his mother and heading towards the door.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay at our house? You're old room is exactly as you left it." Tonks offered one last time, wanting her son to be close to her. Plus, she reasoned, with Christmas Eve and Christmas over the next two days, he would probably be at their house most of time anyway, so it was just easier for Janus to stay in his old room.

"We already have a room." Janus replied with a smile, appreciating what his mother was trying to do. "We'll spend lots of time together tomorrow and on Christmas, don't worry."

"Okay," Tonks grinned, admiring the fact that Janus was intelligent enough to get why she was so insistent. "Bye hunny," She said, kissing him one last time. "Oh, and breakfast is at ten o'clock tomorrow!"

"Okay, bye mum," Janus kissed her cheek back, before walking to the door himself. "Sirius, Emmeline, I'll see you both tomorrow." He called up the stairs, hoping that they would hear him. "Ready?" He smiled at Lucida, opening the door and allowing her to leave first. He followed her immediately after, with Arcturus closing the door behind them.

"I don't think I've ever seen you fake smile as much as you did back in there," Arcturus mumbled once they were out in the bitter cold. "You used to be quieter than a mouse around a cat before you left, and now you're like the gossip columnists for the Daily Prophet."

"It wasn't fake; I am thrilled to see them." Janus answered, shifting his green gaze over to his brother. "I've missed her, and dad, of course. As for the talking, what do you want me to do, not speak after having not seen any of you for five bloody years?"

"You didn't come home because you missed them, though. We both know that." Arcturus returned, knowing that Janus was hiding something, though he didn't know what just yet. His brother could fool many people, both intelligent people and moronic, but he couldn't fool Arcturus, which was why they got along so well growing up.

"I came home to protect my family—Emery, Megara, mum and dad, grandma and granddad, Lucida's parents." Janus recited, turning at the corner that would lead them to Charring Cross Road, where the Leaky Cauldron was located. To muggles, the pub appeared as a broken down shop front, but to magical folk, it served as a doorway to the wondrous world of Diagon Alley.

"So you're saying I shouldn't expect you to protect me if need be?" Arcturus smiled in an effort to change the subject, noticing that his brother had failed to include him while listing his family members.

Janus gave him a sideways glance, shaking his head in jest. "You don't need protection." Janus answered sincerely, knowing how powerful of a wizard his brother was—he was smart, smarter than most could ever dream to be.

"You haven't seen Emery yet, have you?" Arcturus questioned, as a smile appeared on his face. _I wonder how Emery is going to react to seeing Janus_, he questioned himself, hoping to Merlin that he would be able to see it and the interaction thereafter with his own eyes.

"No, I saw grandma and granddad, and Megara of course when we stopped by the house before going to Grimmauld Place, but he wasn't there." Janus returned with a shake of his head. "Not that he would actually want to see me anyway."

"Don't say that," Lucida chided, not wanting Janus to blame himself for whatever problems that his brother had with him.

"He's changed." Arcturus said, and then paused, seemingly thinking of something. "Well, on second thought, no, he really hasn't, though he admittedly isn't as obnoxious as he was. But honestly, he's missed you probably more than he will ever admit. You gave him the drive to become the best quidditch player he could become, and, well, he's kind of become just that. He was at practice, that's probably why you didn't see him at the house. They have a big game tomorrow."

"Chaser for the Magpies, yeah, that's really good for him." Janus nodded, truly impressed with his brother's talent at quidditch. No matter how many ancient books he read, no matter how many neat tricks he had with a wand, Emery was better than him at quidditch to the nth degree, which was something he wouldn't change for the world. "I wrote him a lot when I was away, but I only ever got a few responses. I think two or three, if I recall correctly."

"Because he's a dolt, hit in the head with a few too many bludgers, I think." Arcturus replied, shrugging his shoulders with a wry grin. His younger brother was someone that he just didn't understand, so cocky and arrogant, so different than either Janus or himself—though, Sirius had said that Emery was eerily similar to how James was growing up, which was appropriate being that he looked so much like James did.

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron minutes later, and the trio walked up the stairs to the room that was procured by Janus, room number 23. Lucida and Janus took off their cloaks and got settled, while Arcturus took a seat at the small desk chair that was by the window, holding his cloak in his arms. "I'll be right back," Janus said, excusing himself and walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Why did you two really come back?" Arcturus questioned Lucida, once Janus was out of earshot. While he knew Lucida would protect Janus and whatever secrets his brother had, he also knew that he had a good relationship with the witch, and hoped to be able use that to his advantage.

"Like he said before, to help your father," Lucida answered, continuing the story that Janus told Arcturus just minutes prior. "And to fulfill a promise."

"What promise?" Arcturus inquired, but went quiet when Janus returned, not wanting Janus to know about the conversation. "I should be going." He said, rising to his feet and gathering his cloak.

"Brother, before you leave, let me ask you something," Janus started, needing to know an answer. His brother immediately paused and turned around, questioning his brother with a cocked eyebrow.

"I know something that you don't? This is a first." Arcturus laughed, using his right hand to push a strand of his black hair behind his ear. "What is it?"

Janus licked his lips for a second, wanting to choose his wards as carefully as he could. "In wandlore, is it possible to use a part of a basilisk as the core of a wand? Do you know of any cases that it has been done before?"

"A basilisk?" Arcturus repeated, thinking for a moment, having obviously never used a basilisk in any of his wands. "I suppose you would be able to use the heartstrings or something akin, similarly like you would use with a dragon, but…I wouldn't use it in my wands, even if I could. In legend, they're known to be so uncontrollable, even more so than a dragon that I would think that only a parseltongue like yourself could actually use the wand to its fullest potential. I don't even know what wood you would use to complement it either, perhaps ebony, but I'm skeptical that combination would be as successful as it would seem at first glance." He answered, not bothering to ask what his brother needed to know that for just yet. "I've never come across a wand in my research that has a basilisk core, either."

"Thank you," Janus bit his lip, nodding his head. "I'll see you tomorrow for breakfast?"

"Count on it," Arcturus grinned, turning around and walking to the door. "Bye Lucida," He said, waving to the witch, whom waved back, but stayed otherwise silent. With a turn of the knob, he opened the door and stepped out, closing the wooden door behind him with a soft click.

Instantly, Lucida looked over to Janus, whom was still biting his lip, his mind clearly thinking about something. "Do you think it is him?" Lucida questioned the wizard quietly once she was sure that Arcturus had left the room, watching as her love stared out of the window, a pensive and forlorn look on his face. She wanted to understand exactly what he was thinking, knowing that they had come back to England for the lone and sole purpose to figure that question out. Silently, she waited for the answer, seeing that he was weighing it in his mind, his wonderfully complicated mind that housed so much knowledge and wisdom and barely contained darkness.

"Who else could it be?" He responded finally, having let out a sigh of disconcert, turning around to look over to the pretty, black haired and violet eyed witch.

Lucida mimicked Janus and bit her lip, not really knowing what to make of what he had said. "And if it is?" She asked, hoping that he wouldn't answer how she thought that he would.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Lucida immediately had her answer—the action they were taking was the right thing to do, regardless of how it may be perceived by the others. Then, looking down, Janus spoke in a voice that she had only heard once before: "Without me, the Order of the Phoenix doesn't—no, rather my father doesn't stand a chance…"

A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone. I hope you have a good new Year, too!


	44. Christmas Questions

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: So today is my birthday, and I decided that I would give you all a small present to celebrate it! Enjoy!

Chapter 44: Christmas Questions

At ten o'clock the next morning, Lucida and Janus departed their room in the Leaky Cauldron wearing their thick cloaks and headed down to the tavern below to meet with Arcturus. Waiting for them by the door stood the middle Potter brother, his hair long and black, his eyes gray, and his features sharp. Upon seeing them, he smiled and perked up a bit, flattening the wrinkles from his cloak to be more presentable. "My two favorite Slytherins," He said, excited for the holiday festivities that lay before them. It had been a long time since his entire family had been together, and it was an opportunity he was going to experience to its fullest. "Happy Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Arcturus," Lucida squealed, returning his excitement for the day. She had only seen her parents for a few minutes the previous night, so she was looking forward to spending sometime with them later in the day. As she neared him, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, before pulling back and looking up at him. "This is our first Christmas as an engaged couple, you know."

"I recall," Arcturus smiled, watching as Janus put his arm around Lucida, holding her close to his chest. Then, without a word, he disappeared with a swirl of his cloak, and not a second later, Janus also disappeared, reappearing outside of the gate of their familiar home. "Janus wrote me, telling me that he was going to propose." He said, once they all had arrived.

"He did?" Lucida questioned, watching as Janus put his hand on the gate and the cold metal began to swing open as a result of the action. The trio started the trek up to the house, walking through a small dusting of snow that had fallen the previous night.

"They're here!" Tonks yelled, seeing the gates swing open from her seat in the sitting room. She had been waiting impatiently for them to arrive, still experiencing the excited and happy feeling that her oldest son's return had given her the night before.

"Who is here?" Emery Potter asked from the hallway, hearing his mother, having only expected Arcturus to come.

"It's a surprise!" Tonks exclaimed, grinning wildly, jumping up to greet the new arrivals at the front door—Emery followed closely behind, curious as to whom his mother was referencing. She got there just as the trio entered the house, and tackled Janus into a hug before he even had the chance to step through the doorway.

Emery cocked an eyebrow, and looked at the two people that had entered the house along with his brother Arcturus. He first saw the female, with her long black hair and pointed features, and then his eyes moved over to the tall gentleman, whom he recognized in an instant, though he had not seen him in a while. "Janus?" Emery whispered hoarsely, his eyes wide in confusion. "But, I thought…?"

"Hey Em," Janus smiled, taking off his cloak and hanging it up on the wooden coat rack that stood next to the door. "It's good to see you." He said, coming closer to his brother, while Lucida and Arcturus hung in the back, watching the exchange interestedly.

"But, why, how? When?" Emery stuttered, fumbling over his words, his face lined with shock, thoroughly perplexed by his brother's seemingly sudden appearance.

"I didn't want to tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise!" Tonks grinned, wrapping an arm around Emery and giving him a gentle hug. She knew the pair weren't on the best of terms, though she hoped that now with Janus being back, they could be just as close as both of them were to Arcturus.

"Merry Christmas," Janus said softly, which made Emery nod silently in response, too confused to say anything. "Mom, dad," Janus continued, greeting his parents properly with great affection. Then, running his gaze around the rest of the people that were gathered, he spotted his baby sister hiding behind Ted Tonks' leg. "Aw, you still don't remember me? I was here last night, don't be frightened."

"It's Janus, hunny." Harry whispered, bending down to be eye to eye with his young daughter. "Your older brother, don't you remember him? Come; let's give him a big hug." He said, grabbing her hand and walking her over to Janus, whom bent down and picked her up gently from the ground. She giggled slightly as he spun her around, happily enjoying the ride, before he put her back down and gave her forehead a light kiss.

Then, Janus walked over to the rest of the occupants of the room, intent on saying hello to them individually "Hey Remus," Janus said, hugging the werewolf, whom had been like an uncle to him when he was growing up. "I missed you last night at the meeting."

"Yeah, I couldn't leave Hogwarts, I apologize." Remus said, disappointed that he couldn't greet the wizard when he first arrived. "Are you ready to be asked more questions than you will ever be able to answer?"

"No," Janus grinned, moving his gaze to the couple next to Remus. "Theodore, Daphne," Janus said, taking a few steps over to the Notts, whom had continued the tradition of spending Christmas Eve with the Potters. "Merry Christmas to you both! Where is Phoebe?" He inquired, questioning about the whereabouts of their daughter.

"That's the first time you've ever called me Theodore," Theodore smiled, shaking Janus' hand. Even after all these years, his hand was still purple from the venom of Nagini, the snake that had bitten him during the final battle against the Dark Lord Voldemort. "Good to see you, too, glad that you're back."

"Phoebe will be around sooner or later, she had some last minute gift shopping to take care of. You know her." Daphne said, answering Janus' question.

Janus scanned the occupants one last time, realizing quite a few people were missing. "I take it everyone else is meeting up tomorrow as always?"

"Of course," Tonks nodded in agreement. "We were supposed to go over Cedric's tomorrow, but because you came back, we asked everyone to come over here instead."

"Think your parents would be able to come?" Janus questioned, looking over to Lucida. Then, looking back to his mother, he asked, "They're welcome, right?"

"Absolutely!" Tonks grinned, believing that the more people there, the merrier it would be.

"I'll ask them at lunch, though I'm sure they'll want to come." Lucida replied, staring back at Janus. "If they have plans already, we'll change them or something."

"Good," Janus agreed, not wanting to spend Christmas without Lucida, with whom he both had spent the past four Christmases and hoped to spend every Christmas for the rest of his life.

"So shall we eat then?" Harry asked, looking around the group, knowing that he was a tad hungry, having not eaten anything the night before in anticipation of the delicious meal. "Everyone head to the dinning room, while Janus and I get the drinks from the icebox." Harry said, gesturing to the door that led to the dinning room. The group funneled out of the foyer and into the dinning room, each taking a seat at that grand table, while Harry and Janus headed into the kitchen.

"I want to hear about everything." Harry said, entering the kitchen and walking over to the island counter. "Where you were, what you did, what you learned, everything."

"That's funny, because I want to hear about everything you know in regards to this supposed Dark Lord." Janus replied, not looking at his father. "Where he came from, what he does, what you have learned about him, everything."

"Don't know much yet. Just that he or she has two goons that lead his forces, with one of them being taller than the other. We don't know if they're male, female, anything really." Harry answered his son with a shrug, not really concerned about it. "I'll tell you more when Christmas is over," He promised, grabbing the pitcher of pumpkin juice out of the icebox and putting it on the tray. "You know, when I traveled before my seventh year, I only went for a month and a half. It seems that you beat me in regards to length of time."

"Seems so," Janus grinned, looking over to Zeali, who was cooking at the oven, silently listening to the conversation. "Hello Zeali."

"Master Janus," Zeali squeaked, turning his attention away from the stove and over to Janus. "Zeali is so happy to see you. Zeali has made your favorites today and I make even more tomorrow!"

Janus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, cheap muggle toy wristband. "Merry Christmas, Zeali." He gave the toy over to Zeali, who tentatively took it into his tiny hands.

"Thank you, master!" Zeali smiled with tears in his eyes, overjoyed at the fact that Janus had thought of him. "Thank you!"

Harry and Janus brought the pitchers of drinks into the dinning room, before next to Tonks and Lucida, respectively. Before long, they were well into the meal, when Sirius asked the question that was on all of their minds. "So, when are you going to regale us with tales of mystique and wonder?"

"Well, how about we do it tomorrow with everyone here?" Janus answered between bites, moving his gaze over to Sirius. "I'll even bring some of the pictures that we took."

"I guess we'll have to come tomorrow to hear that." Theodore smiled over to Daphne, who gave him a grin in response.

After another half hour or so, the meal was winding down and everyone got to their feet with their stomachs full and their hearts merry. "Breakfast was delicious, thank you." Lucida said, smiling brightly as she came over to Tonks.

"Are you leaving already?" Tonks asked, sad that she wouldn't be staying a bit longer.

"Yes, unfortunately," Lucida answered, wanting to see her parents. "My parents are getting anxious to see me, I would imagine. But I'll see you tomorrow, I'm sure."

"Okay," Tonks nodded in agreement, knowing what it was like to not have a child around for so long, especially around Christmas time.

The entire group walked into the sitting room, where a small fire was burning in the corner fireplace. "Bye everyone, it was great seeing you if I don't see some of you tomorrow." Lucida said, waving to the group, whom all waved back and responded with their goodbyes.

"Come on, I'll walk you up to the library," Janus suggested, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"No need," Harry waved them off with one hand, while holding a cup of hot tea in the other. "This fireplace has been connected to the Floo network for a while now."

"Really?" Janus said in a surprised tone, giving Lucida a sideways glance. "How…convenient," He whispered, unnoticeably shaking his head. "I'll see you later, then?"

"Count on it." Lucida nodded, giving him a kiss on the lips. "I love you," She said quietly, before grabbing a handful of powder and throwing it into the fire. The fire burned green for a moment, and after announcing her destination, she disappeared in a flash, presumably appearing at her parent's home a few moments later.

Janus bit his lip, all the while looking around at the group as they laughed about something that his cousins Kastor and Pollux had done a few days prior. "I'm going to the loo, excuse me," Janus said, excusing himself from the group. He walked into the bathroom on the other side of the first floor, closing the door a moment later.

Harry watched his oldest son walk out of the room, before turning his attention to his middle son. "Arcturus, I want to show you something real quick." Harry said, motioning for the younger wizard to follow him.

Silently, Arcturus followed his father, walking up the stairs and into the library on the second floor. Just as they had arrived, Janus exited the bathroom, and upon seeing his father and brother, he silently followed them, wanting to know what they were doing. "What is it?" Arcturus questioned, wondering what was going on.

"I don't really have to show you something; I just wanted to talk to you privately for a moment." Harry said, turning around to face his son.

Arcturus cocked an eyebrow, his curiosity spiked due to the secretive nature of the meeting. "What's up?"

"I'm going to need it back," Harry said, quietly, barely above a whisper. "With this new threat, I want to make sure I'm prepared as best as I can." He informed his son, opening up to the fact that he was a bit uneasy by the appearance of a new dark lord. At least with Voldemort he knew what he was fighting, knew what the dark lord wanted and how he intended on getting it. Here, however, he had no idea who it was or what they wanted, leaving him at a distinct disadvantage should he find himself in a duel against the enemy.

"Of course," Arcturus whispered in response, knowing exactly what his father meant. "It's inside of a lockbox in my workshop at the store. I'll bring it to you at once."

"No, bring it to me later tonight." Harry shook his head, not wanting to inconvenience his son more than he already had. "How has it gone in respect to your work on it? Have you learned anything new about it?"

"The binding of the ingredients truly is remarkable." Arcturus answered honestly, supremely impressed by the work that had taken in creating it. "Whoever did create it was a much better at it than I am. In fact, it makes me question whether it was Death who actually did do it."

"It's legendary; don't be so hard on yourself." Harry replied in a fatherly tone, gripping Arcturus' shoulder. His son was extremely skilled in what he did; he didn't want his son to lose confidence in his abilities. "We should get back."

_Bring what later_, Janus thought to himself, wondering what his father and brother were talking about. _Death?_ Then, hearing them both coming towards the door, he quickly walked down the hall, entering his former room, that, just as his mother had promised, looked exactly the same as he had left it. When he knew that they had returned downstairs, he exited back into the hallway, and made a line straight for the portrait that was on the far end of the opposite hall, away from his room.

There in the portrait was an aged wizard slumbering in a chair. The occupant, however, was not the one in which the portrait was supposed to be of, but instead an old wizard with long grey hair and a long grey beard. "Grindelwald," Janus said, staring up at the former dark lord as he visited the portrait of his great grandfather, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts, who was presumably in his other portrait found within Hogwarts.

With a yawn, Grindelwald awoke from his nap. "Beg your pardon?" Grindelwald replied, squinting his eyes at Janus, whom he had watched grow up. "You must have me confused."

"Cut the crap," Janus hissed, giving the wizard an amused smile. "You really think I would not know who you are? I walked passed you nearly every time I walked upstairs when I was growing up."

Grindelwald narrowed his gaze at Janus, knowing how deductive and intelligent the wizard was. "And what of it?" He asked, admitting that he was Gellert Grindelwald, breaking the promise that he had made to Harry over two decades prior.

"The Pyramidas Furmat book that my father has, he said that he received it from an old friend who had gotten it in Greece." Janus started, wanting to hurry up before people started to question his whereabouts. "Where in Greece did you get it from?"

"I bought it from a shop on the island of Meropis." Gellert started, remembering that day as a teenager many years prior to his incarceration in Nurmengard. "I originally went there to gather information regarding the Deathstick. You see, in my youth I had heard a rumor that a shopkeeper there was searching for a powerful wand or artifact, and I wanted to find out what he knew. He ended up not knowing anything of value about the Deathstick, apparently searching for something entirely different, though I don't have the foggiest clue what that could have been. I bought the book before I left that shop, so it wasn't a complete waste of my time by going there."

"What was the name of this shopkeeper?" Janus asked in response to what he had learned, gazing straight at Grindelwald.

"Tanis," Grindelwald replied after a moment's thought. "He was old and near death when this happened, which was before the turn of last century."

"Tanis?" Janus mumbled, looking downwards, seemingly lost in thought. "Happy Christmas, Grindelwald." Janus finally said after a few seconds of silence, looking up at the older wizard, before walking slowly over to the stairway and back down to the party below.

"Same to you," Grindelwald replied, perplexed by the interaction with Janus.

As he arrived back in the sitting room, he saw everyone happily talking, sipping various drinks, snacking on delicious goodies, and generally having a good time. On the coffee table in the center of the room stood a wizarding wireless, softly playing various christmas tones of the season for the room to enjoy. "I should get going," Emery said, rising to his feet, noticing the time.

"Okay," Harry nodded, understanding that his son had to go to his game early to prepare. "Good luck, all of us will be cheering you on."

"Merry Christmas, mum," Emery said, kissing his mother's cheek. "I'll see you later,"

"Bye, hunny." Tonks replied, watching as her son walked out of the room, presumably to grab his things before going to the fireplace and flooing away.

"He has a game today?" Janus asked, turning his attention over to his father with a questioning look on his face. He had assumed that they were simply going to spend the day at the house, having not checked the quidditch league schedule before coming.

"Oh," Harry muttered, giving his head a small shake. "That's right, it slipped my mind, I'm sorry. Yeah, we all have tickets for tonight, but I'm positive we can get some more. You'll come, won't you?"

"Of course," Janus replied with a nod of his head, having always enjoyed watching his brother play quidditch. "If that's the case, I'm going to floo call Lucida, see if her family wants to come too."

"Sure," Harry agreed, turning his attention back to the conversation as Janus left the room.

Later that night, Lucida Nigel was walking to the ticket counter at the Montrose quidditch pitch along with her parents, knowing that Janus had left her three tickets for her there. She procured the tickets, and they all made their way up to the seats, immediately seeing the Potters and the rest of their friends and family. They took their seats, with Lucida sitting next to Janus, just in time for the match to start. "It's cold," Andromeda Tonks shivered, bringing her cloak closer to try and get warm. Ted rubbed her shoulders in an effort to warm her up, wanting her to feel more comfortable so she could enjoy the match.

"I'm going to get some hot chocolate, I saw a vendor when we were coming in." Janus said, getting to his feet. "Does anyone else want one?" He asked the group, knowing that there would be a few others like him that would enjoy a hot cup of chocolate.

"I do, I do!" He heard Megara chirp from her seat in between Harry and Ted, her voice barely loud enough to hear over the many shouts and cheers that were coming from the fans all around.

"Of course you do," Janus grinned, his sister winning him over very easily. "Anyone else?"

"Sure," Most of the group nodded.

"Want to come with me?" Janus questioned Lucida, whom nodded and got to her feet as well. They each squeezed out of the row and headed up towards the concourse, where there were various food vendors that sold wizarding snacks, as well as other, more muggle fare like hot chocolate and popcorn.

"What did you find out?" Lucida questioned once they were away from the family, giving him a sideways glance as they walked towards the witch vendor that was selling the hot drinks.

"From my father, nothing really yet, only that he suspects or thinks that it's possible that the two leaders are one male and one female." Janus answered quietly as to not be overheard by anyone passing them. "As for what I found out from Grindelwald, apparently he visited Meropis just like us, but get this, the shopkeeper that he spoke to back then was named Tanis."

"They think it is one male and one female? That's not good, but Tanis? That's…strange?" Lucida whispered, not really understanding how that could be. "I don't get that."

"Neither do I," Janus responded, unsure about what the information all meant. Were they wrong? Were they on the wrong track? It was something that he knew he would think about over the next few days until his father gave him some more concrete information.

After waiting in line, they finally got the drinks and returned to their seats, handing over the many hot chocolates to all the people that had asked for one. Before long, the match was underway, with the Magpies taking the immediate lead on an early goal by a female chaser. The match ended up being fairly quick, only about a half an hour, with the Magpies' seeker catching the snitch. Emery had a good game for the Magpies, scoring five goals, assisting on a few others, and accumulating three steals, one of his specialties. Eventually the night ended and they all returned to their respective homes, knowing that Christmas was going to be a busy, but happy day the next day, one hopefully filled with learning about Janus and Lucida's many adventures.

AN: Not exactly up to my usual standards because it was rushed, but I hope you enjoyed it. It gives a peek into what the sequel would be about.


	45. Prologue

Harry Potter and the Power of the Past

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?

A/N: This is simply a few extra scenes that would take place in the prologue of the sequel, if I were to ever write it. I wanted to get out the rest of the Christmas chapter, where Janus and Lucida answer everyone's questions (perhaps not honestly, though), but I simply ran out of time. As such, this will have to suffice!

S/N 2: In the sequel, wands were to have taken a surpreme importance, which is why I was going to show you all of the Potter boys getting their wands, and how each wand kind of showed what all three Potters were about.

Chapter 45: Prologue

August 31, 2014

It had been nearly a half an hour since the Potter family entered Ollivander's wand shop in order to get Janus his first wand. It was the day before the boy was to leave for Hogwarts, and as a treat to him, both Harry and Tonks had asked Sirius and Emmeline to take Arcturus and Emery to play with their cousins, while they took Janus to gather his school things. It was a pleasant day, where they bought everything he needed for the school year, had lunch, gorged themselves on sweets, and purchased a majestic greater sooty owl, before they made their last stop at Ollivander's to get his wand.

Ollivander stood in front of one of his shelves lined with wands, trying to find the perfect match for Janus. As his eyes moved over the assortment, he bent down and grabbed a box on the very bottom, a ponderous expression on his face. "Try this; it's a 13 ½', ply, yew wand with a dragon heart string core." The old wandmaker said as he walked back over to the family, handing over the long wand to the eleven year old wizard. Immediately, there was a bright light and a rush of air that came about the tiny store, before subsiding a moment later, leaving everything as it was.

"We have a winner!" Harry exclaimed with a broad, happy smile, knowing the signs of a wand choosing a wizard. It was a mystical connection, a wizard and his wand, which was forged the moment the respective wizard touched his hand upon the wood—it wsa a rush of wisdom and power, and filled a portion of your soul that you didn't know was absent before then.

"This is my wand?" Janus questioned, looking over to Harry, asking him with his eyes whether the wand was his or not. He wasn't confused, no, instead he was unexcited by what had happened, having expected the small shop to blow up a bit more from the stories that his parents had told him.

"Of course," Harry nodded with a large grin, walking closer to the counter to pay for the wand. He pulled out his money bag and took a few galleons from the bottom, placing them down on the counter as Ollivander walked around back around behind the counter.

"Now that is fascinating," Ollivander whispered, watching as Janus brought the wand over for Tonks to see. Tonks proudly rubbed his messy black-haired head, giving Janus a giant grin as he animatedly explained his wand to her. "The world of magic and wandlore never cease to amaze me."

"What is?" Harry questioned, having heard the older wizard. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what was so special about Janus' wand, which looked relatively normal to him.

"That yew in his wand is from the same exact tree from which I procured Tom Riddle's wand. Mind you, it's not the only other wand made from that yew tree, but it is very exciting to see that one of them goes to the son of the very person that defeated the owner of its cousin." Ollivander recited, moving his moon-like gaze from Janus to Harry. "The dimensions between the pair are very similar, as well. I think it is clear that your son is destined to do great things, Harry Potter, great things indeed."

August 15, 2015

"Let's see, your father and older brother were especially difficult to find a wand for, while your mother was quick to sort out. Who will you take after, I wonder? Let's start with this one, a blackthorn wand," The old Garrick Ollivander said as he handed the wand over to Arcturus, but immediately took it out of the boy's hands before the younger wizard even had a chance to wave it, his reflexes just as quick as they used to be, even in his old age. "No, no, obviously not, that won't do. Let's see, hm, how about an alder?" He said, walking over to the other side of the shelf to get an alder wand, which was good for nonverbal spellwork and often times found itself happy in the hands of a person with an opposite nature to itself.

Arcturus looked over to his mother, who gave him a comforting smile, not wanting to think he was a failure for not having a wand yet. "That's normal, hunny, don't worry." She said, trying to ease his nervousness, giving him a smile as he nodded back to her.

Soon enough, Ollivander came back with the wand in his hand and passed it over to Arcturus, who took a swipe with it: nothing happened. "Ah, hornbeam maybe?" He said once more, walking over to the shelves and grabbing a small wand, which was good for wizards that had a passion for one particular form of magic. "Here you are."

Acrturus gave it a swing, and a soft breeze entered the room, before subsiding, leaving no damage. "Close," Ollivander nodded, seeing the reaction between the wand and the wizard. "That wand is very similar to mine, but it's not quite suited for you. Ah, I got it, 12', acacia, phoenix feather; it's a very subtle wand, one that is quite suited for a wizard like yourself. I only ever keep a few wands made of acacia in the store because they're so hard to match up with a wizard. It's quite a tricky substance that acacia, preferring to only work well for wizards of the most gifted kind." He walked into the back room, leaving Arcturus alone with his mother and father.

"How many wands did you go through, mum?" Arcturus questioned, wondering if it really was normal for a person to not be able to find a wand for themselves. He had been in the shop for quite sometime, trying different woods, cores, and lengths, but was still unable to find the one that would be his.

Before Tonks could answer, Ollivander returned with a tan wand in his hand and a jolly smile on his face. "Here you are, acacia, phoenix feather, 12', just as I said." Ollivander said confidently, handing it over to Arcturus to try. "I'm sure this will be it."

Sure enough, sparks flew out of the wandtip the instant Arcturus took its grasp and when he gave it a swipe, the sparks grew into bright blue lights. "That wand isn't meant for bangs and smash spells," Ollivander warned as he looked down at Arcturus, knowing that certain wizards could not bring out the best in the wand due to their flashy nature and style. "It's meant for subtlety, for only the most trained and powerful of wizards to use."

August 20, 2019

Emery Potter had received his Hogwarts letter two weeks prior, telling him all that he needed for his first year at the school. As was family tradition, both Harry and Tonks spent the entire day with Emery in Diagon Alley, showing him the wider wizarding world for the first time, something that he had not experienced before them. As they walked down the alley, Emery's eyes drifted over to the quidditch store, where he saw a brilliant broom hanging in the window.

"Can we get one, dad? Can we?" Emery questioned excitedly, rushing to the window to stare at it. It was the newest Firebolt, the fastest broom on the market, overtaking the older Nimbus 2010, which had ruled the air for nearly a decade.

"First years aren't allowed a broom, Emery," Harry replied, looking down at his son, wanting to impart that knowledge to him. "I promised you a birthday gift, so yes, we can get it. But, remember, you will not be able to take it to school this year, and will have to wait until next year to ride it."

"By doing that, you run the risk of having a newer model released next year be faster than the one you get today," Tonks added, bending down to be eye to eye with her son, knowing that he had a choice to make. "So you have to decide, because we will get you a new broom, whether it's right now or next year at this time: can you wait until you can actually use it at Hogwarts or do you want it so badly that you'll risk a newer, better broom coming out by the time you're a second year? We're only getting you one, you know."

Emery looked at both of his parents, and then back to the broom, before returning his gaze to his parents. "I guess I can wait," He said sadly, knowing that if a newer broom were to come out, he'd be able to get that one and if not, he'd still have the fastest broom on the market going into his second year. With that, he walked away from the window, continuing on down the alley. Harry and Tonks looked at each other with a smile, appreaciating Emery's decision as they followed their youngest son.

An hour later, the last stop of the day found the family in Ollivander's Wand Shop, searching for the tool that Emery would channel his magic with for the rest of his life. "Here, 11', unyielding, chestnut with a unicorn tail hair." Ollivander said, thrusting a wand into Emery's small hands. It was only his second wand, his first having been a yew that nearly destroyed the shop before it even entered Emery's hands—a clear sign that Emery was the direct opposite of a yew wand owner, which usually found its owner in a witch or wizard that was skilled in marshall magic. "Go on, give it a try."

As soon as Emery's fingers touched the brown wooded wand, golden sparks flew into the air, and both Harry and Tonks gave out an excited gasp. "That's it!" Harry exclaimed happily, surprised that Emery was so easy to sort out—it had taken Janus ten wands, while Arcturus had seen seven.

"This is my wand?" Emery grinned, happy that his parents were proud of him and that he would have a wand to use in Hogwarts.

"A curious fact about chestnut is that it is attracted to wizards who are naturally gifted fliers," Ollivander said, giving Emery a smile, who took great pride in his flying ability, even in his young age. He had long since decided that he would be a quidditch player when he grew up, a decision that he came to when he was six years old. "I believe that bodes well to your future quidditch career."

December 25, 2026

Megara Potter, the youngest child of Harry and Tonks sat peacefully on the couch as Harry brought her the final present of the day, the first Christmas she experienced with her oldest brother and his fiancee around. In Harry's hands, there was a gray and black kitten, barely the size of a squirrel. "Kneezle!" Megara yelled out excitedly, hugging the kitten closely to her as Harry handed it to her with a bow around its neck.

"Merry Christmas, sweetie," Tonks kissed her daughter's head, as everyone smiled at her excitement.

"So she never grew into metamorphmagus powers like you thought she would, huh, mum?" Janus questioned, looking over at his sister, who was playing with the small, grey and black kneezle, which seemed to be part snow leopard.

"Nope," Tonks shook her head, running a hand over Megara's back. Then, speaking lowly to Janus, she whispered, "She loves animals, though, so maybe she'll me another type of magus that runs in the family."

Janus looked over to his younger sister, who was throwing a ball of yarn at the kitten and watching as he ran after it. _"Hello Megara,"_ He hissed to his sister, wondering if she had inherited the parselmouth ability of their father just as he did.

_"It won't work,"_ Harry hissed back with a grin, staring over at his oldest boy. _"You're the only one."_

"Can we not speak parseltongue on Christmas? Okay, thanks." Phoebe Nott exclaimed, earning a round of laughter from everyone. "It freaks me out." Seeing Janus' large smile, she rolled her eyes, realizing that he was probably doing it on purpose "He knows that too—he used to say hello to me everyday when we were in Hogwarts through parseltongue."

"Dad's already tried that," Arcturus mentioned, having seen his father whispering to his sister in the language of the snakes in an effort to see if she could understand him. "He played a game with her a few years back, but she didn't respond."

"I had hoped she would be a metamorphmagus, but alas, maybe it'll show up in a grandchild or something." Tonks sighed in a sad tone, disappointed that she couldn't share her abilities with any one of her children, while Harry got to share his with Janus. "Either way, I'm hoping she's a Hufflepuff now so I can have a complete set." Tonks grinned happily; excited to see if the unlikely event of having each one of her children be in a different house actually came to pass.

"That's funny," Hermione smiled, realizing that if Megara was a Hufflepuff, the Potter children would have all been in a different house.

"Yes, the cunning and ambitious Slytherin," Tonks said, looking towards Janus, who was still watching his sister. Then, her eyes flicked over to Arcturus, who was talking with Phoebe Nott. "The beautiful and intelligent Ravenclaw," She said, and then moved her eyes over to Emery, who was grabbing a drink from the table and laughing with Viktor. "The brave and chivalrous Gryffindor," She smiled at Megara, who looked up at her mother with wide eyes, still so happy that she received a pet. "And the hardworking and loyal Hufflepuff." She cooed to her youngest daughter, hoping that her daughter would be in her house, the house represented by the badger.

"Did you hear about that new magi-zoo that the Finch guy is opening on the Isle of Mann?" Emese Nigel, mother of Lucida questioned Tonks, wondering if she had heard about it. "Are you going to take Megara there?"

"We are, actually," Tonks answered with a smile, looking over to her son's future mother in law. "That was part of her Christmas gift today: tickets to the zoo on the first day. She's in love with animals; I wouldn't be surprised if she became a magizoologist."

"I always thought the sorting hat was an old-fashioned way of sorting the students." Harmony Davies said conversationally on the opposite side of the room, having always felt that there should be another way to separate the students. "I mean, all it does is create enemies between the houses, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, raising a questioning eyebrow as he looked over to the daughter of his deceased best friend, Roger Davies.

"Well," Harmony said, expressing her opinion eloquently, just like her father. "Kids focus on the negative aspects of the houses, not the positive ones."

"What people don't understand is that the sorting hat sorts the most prominent of a person's features at that time of their life, not the only ones." Remus interjected, having had the debate once before with Minerva McGonagall one night in the headmistress's office back when she was still the headmistress. "Take Kylie for example, he was a Slytherin, but he and Severus were the bravest men I know by doing what they did. They should have been in Gryffindor."

"As if," Theodore smiled from his seat opposite of Remus, giving the werewolf a large grin. "I'll take my dungeons over the Gryffindor tower any day of the week."

"It is changing, though," Hermione said, noticing that ever since Voldemort had been defeated, Slytherin wasn't the pureblood bastion it once was. "Compared to how it was when we went to Hogwarts, or when Remus and Sirius went to Hogwarts, its much, much different. Much, much better, I think."

A/N: There it is! Merry Christmas, everyone. I threw in that final scene since Megara hadn't had any scenes and since she isn't old enough for a wand, it had to be a Christmas scene; I figured it would be nice. She would be in Hufflepuff, and she would probably be an animagus, but you wouldn't see that in the sequel since the sequel would only span about three or four months.


End file.
